The Girl-Shaped Wall
by Madhatting-Adelaide
Summary: Alice is a maid who has been working/living at Cloud Ruler Temple for years. Her routine was thoroughly broken after the assassination of the emperor, for she began to fancy his heir... Warnings: Sexual content, mature themes, spoilers, and poor writing. A few minor details were bent to aid the story, but I otherwise tried to stay true to the lore.
1. Sinner in a Holy Man's Robes

It hasn't been the same around here since Uriel was assassinated. It's more than just one less bed to make, one less meal to prepare, or the absence of expensive robes for me to wash. Though he kept to himself, the temple feels… dead. I miss his company so. He was the father that I never had, and, frankly, my best friend. The man will be missed dearly, and not only by me, but by every single person who resides here.

I didn't just lose the emperor, though. Captain Renault didn't come back, either. My heart is doubly broken, and a million times furious. I am not concerned with why the cultists want the emperor, and I don't care if they think what they are doing is right. They took my friends, and that's all I have. Essentially, they took my soul.

Thankfully, even though the two brothers are dead, there is one final heir, they say. It surprises me that the son of an emperor doesn't know the bloodline, but apparently it's something to do with him being an illegitimate child or something. I never really understood how all of that stuff worked, anyway. My job is to clean the linens, take the money, buy the food, make the food, and tend to the temple. Frankly, I love it. Set for life, I get to spend it in a lovely place with wonderful people.

It's so silent in here right now, which, surprisingly, makes it impossible to focus on my work. My paranoia, the death of me, clutching my little dagger hidden under my dress, I feebly prepared myself for the worst that could possibly happen. The door opened; I braced myself, ducking under the railing slightly. Some familiar faces made their way through the door, so I breathed a sigh of relief. Nothing was safe anymore after the assassination. As the others processed in, I noted one unfamiliar face among them. That couldn't be…

His son. I knew he was unaware of his status but for some reason, I imagined him to have a somehow larger presence. But, the man before me was nothing more than a monk, a holy man, dressed in a dark robe, quiet and unassuming. Curiosity got the best of me as I walked down the stairs into the small crowd.

I bow, I curtsy, I smile, and in the background I see a well-aware smile. I hoped only I could see it, desperately hoped.

"Your luggage, sire?" I couldn't seem to get my eyes to meet his. Silence. I was met with silence. A small part of me died. I shouldn't have come down. I should have…

"Oh. Pardon. I'm still getting used to this." He handed me a small satchel. I doubted it held more than a few books and other belongings.

"Allow me to show you to your new room," I continued, masking my discomfort well. I knew well that it was going to be difficult to move a strange man into my best friend's room. Dread filled my heart as we approached. I pursed my lips. Silence.

Without looking up, I gestured to the room. I couldn't keep my face down, unfortunately. Placing the satchel on the desk, tears filled my eyes. The moment they did, a sinking feeling became stronger as I learned that the emperor's first impression of me was a weeping wretch. I couldn't, I just couldn't. The moment they started, the tears wouldn't stop no matter how hard I tried. Before I turned to run to my room in shame, he stopped me.

"That was brave of you, miss. It's obvious that this was my father's room," he noted.

The shameless tears continued; the façade was broken. I was able to keep it below sobbing, but not by as much as I'd hoped. "He was my best friend, and one of the most brilliant people I have ever met. I still can't believe he's dead." I buried my face in my hands. I knew it wasn't going to be easy, but I hoped that my composure wouldn't slip this much.

"Someday I hope to be half the man he was," he responded, looking down slightly. I didn't know how to respond, so I used the default one.

"Before I go, a drink, Your Highness?" Well, that was vacuous.

"No, but thank you," he said. I left with a bow. He was clearly his father's son, whether he knew it or not.

My duties were done enough that I was able to return to my chambers and be alone for a while. Some quiet time with my books always helped me in the past. I made my way to the little shelf, sorting through many well-worn books, seeing which one I would escape into that night. My fairy tale book involuntarily came into my grasp, and as I opened the cover again, the tears restarted as the message in the front cover came into view-

_To little Alice, because every girl needs a book of fairy tales._

It was one of the first things I was given when I was sent here, and it was the thing that let me know that I was safe here. The front cover was worn so badly that the text was hardly discernable. The binding was broken such that the book always opened to my favorite story. When I was little, I'd always dream that knight would come and take me away from my dull life, but I have long realized that I have everything I want here. With a smile, I returned the old book to my shelf and blew out the candle by my bedroll.

Morning came rather quickly, as I hoped. I buttoned my dress, brushed my hair into a bun, and made my way toward the kitchen. I was surprised that no one else was up yet, but it was clear that the recent events have worn everyone weary. As I made it to the kitchen, I was a bit disappointed at how low I let the food supply become. Today was going to be a market day.

Improvising a sort of jam from the last of the peaches, I proceeded to pretend to make "bread." I hadn't any sort of leavening, so this was going to be interesting. I sweetened it and added a bit of clove to mask the staleness of the flour. Alas, flat bread with pretend jam. I hoped nobody noticed. Some apples were still in the back of the pantry, so I chopped them and served them on the side. Close enough.

I set the table with care, a feeble attempt to salvage what "good impression" I might have left. Every plate had the food so carefully arranged, and the chairs flawlessly straightened, and then I, a bit worried about my sub-par performance, rung the bell. The others, many already in their armor, filed their way into the room. I sat down carefully at my usual spot, soon realizing that the Captain would not take my side again. Sitting next to her at breakfast time was almost common procedure, and even after a few days in her absence, I still almost expected her to join me. One by one, the others arrange themselves about the table in their usual fashion, save for the empty seats I tried my best not to see.

The grandmaster came in next, sitting where Uriel sat. This didn't bother me as much, for some reason. Lastly came the heir, who sat down next to me. After a quick prayer, the meal started. Trying the meal myself set myself at ease. The improvised conglomeration of ingredients actually made a decent meal. Not perfect, mind you, but decent enough such that I wasn't an embarrassment. One could barely notice the bitter taste of the stale flour or the dry, flat bread.

The silence upset me. I could hear the tableware striking the plates, which made me draw every bad conclusion that ever came to mind. No matter how much I tried to reassure myself that it was because of the ongoing hostilities, selfishly, I could feel them all judging me. I broke it for my sanity's sake, "It's good to see you again, Grandmaster. It's been a long time."

"I only wish the circumstances were better." Then, it continued.

After a while, the silence was broken by a discussion of the crisis. I didn't pay much attention; I was too busy hurriedly attempting to gather the plates for cleaning before leaving for the market. The talk of a cult conspiring to bring Daedra to Tamriel frightened me. It was only then that I realized how serious the matter was. But, what was I to do? I could not protect a nation with my rusted dagger. With that realization, I obtained the rest of the plates and disappeared out of sight. After they were cleaned, I asked Jena for some money before I left to refresh the food supply. She passed me a small bag of gold with a smile, and with that, I passed through the door and took my short walk to Bruma.

This specific part of my day has always been my favorite. Even when I don't stray from the main road, I absolutely love the view. The northern parts, though called ugly by many, have a special charm that my white-bread hometown Chorrol lacked. Then again, I will always be biased against that place.

The breeze was enchanting, especially since it had just rained. The fear and paranoia that had accumulated earlier was whisked away instantly. I knew deep down that I wanted to escape the tensions in the temple just as much as I wanted to obtain food. Greeting the guards as I passed through the gate, I made my way to the marketplace. After I picked up the usual fruits and a new bag of flour, I got a few more cuts of beef from the butcher. I don't usually go for that, but with how everyone was acting this morning, a bit of extravagance would not be problematic. Perhaps I could protect the nation by proxy, tending to the people who protect the man who tends to the nation.

I breathed a sigh of relief when I realized that I took long enough for Caroline to be guarding the front door. I did spend a bit more than usual, especially since I hadn't visited the marketplace for a long time. Without a word, I handed the empty bag to Caroline in hopes that she wouldn't notice. With that, I brought my basket to the kitchen and stored away the food. Though the walk was enjoyable, I knew well that I was behind on my work, so, for the rest of the day, I did my best to stay focused to get things done. Moist morning linens are fortunate for no one. It took me a moment to realize why a priest's robe was in the pile of linens I was to wash, but, of course, those belonged to the heir. Why was he kept ignorant? These were not robes suited for the son of the emperor. None of this ever made sense…

The sun. Much too low. While some linens were soaking, I rushed back to the kitchen and started a cook fire. Flame-cooked beef and vegetables it was. Flame cooks quick; I need quick. After throwing some herbs onto the mixture (I really should have put those on the meat hours ago) I slammed the pot shut and nervously waited for it to finish, placing the tableware in advance to stave off the unavoidable pacing. At least nobody was sitting and waiting, which almost made me feel a little better. None of them could see me like this, a total mess, unable to proceed into the future just because of an event in the recent past.

As the last plate hit the table, the meat started smelling vaguely done. Thankfully, chopping it into pieces sped the process up considerably… After attempting some sort of beauty with the plating, I rang the bell, quickly exchanging my aprons in the kitchen because the rush caused a bit of carelessness. Sitting down to my meal, I noticed that the others were rather slow to come to the table. I didn't know whether that was good or bad… What I always found interesting is that everyone always sits in the same place, every time, and if someone doesn't, it's this huge upset. As far as I know, the only time the arrangement has changed was with the recent deaths. People are such strange creatures.

I dreaded the silence that plagued me at breakfast. A lot of talking must have happened while I was gone, because there was none to be had. I knew that the minute I spoke up like I did last time, people would suspect how uncomfortable I was. For some reason, the longer the silence drags, the more hesitant people become. Surprisingly, it was the heir who broke it this time.

"This is lovely, thank you," he said, in his usual muted tone. A gentle smile followed.

I could feel my heart sending a pound of blood to my face. There was no way I would deal with this gracefully.

"I'm glad you like it," I responded, attempting a smile in return. This was the first time I actually made eye contact with him. I don't do eye contact. I shouldn't have done eye contact, because I became even more of a nervous wreck than I was to begin with.

The moment I was finished eating, I left rather briskly to deal with the linens (that were certainly going to be damp by morning) and get them hanging to cut my losses. The moment I left with the linens to hang them, I breathed a sigh of relief. I was alone, I was finally alone, away from the gazes that were, frankly, not on me. They are never on me, but I worry anyway.

When I knew I was truly alone, I finally allowed myself my thoughts. Emperors are supposed to be old, with gray hair and heavily wrinkled skin. They're supposed to sound old, act old, and, most importantly, be old. Of course the man sitting next to me was many years to my senior, but not by enough. I couldn't believe my own thoughts; I fancied him, and not in the same manner as the childish crushes that I had developed before. This was different. This was strictly forbidden. Little maids aren't supposed to like big, important men. They're supposed to be chaste and devoted to their duties.

After imagining what his father would think of me, having learned this, I cringed. After realizing that someone of his station could have anyone in the world, I shook my head and continued with my work. I didn't even know his first name! This changed nothing. He looked too much like the knight. Forgive me, Uriel, but I now understand how he could be your illegitimate son. The woman must have been beautiful.

After hanging the linens, I, slightly out of breath, returned to the temple. It had become quiet once again. I knew that I would not be able to sleep anytime soon, so I decided to catch up on the work that I had neglected over the past few days. Broom in hand, I passed the time until everyone returned to their beds, hopelessly dreaming of myself in a long, white, silken gown, veiled, surrounded by flowers and happy people… Alice, you're pathetic. I only thanked the Gods that everyone was sleeping, and that nobody could hear my thoughts.

I made my way through to the upper west wing, a place I had neglected the most for obvious reasons. I lit one of the candles on the wall, realizing that it had become extremely late. It was far too dark to see otherwise. Noticing a bit of dust on the wall sconce, I detached the dust cloth from my apron and cleaned those, too. I knew I was just stalling for insomnia's sake, hoping to wear myself down enough for sleep.

A faint glow came from… not Uriel's… the heir's room. Out of curiosity, I decided it would be most wise to dust the rest of the sconces. I had neglected them, after all. Through the corner of my eye, I noticed that it was far more than just a carelessly lit candle. He was awake, with multiple books open on his desk. I could tell from his expression that neither of us were able to sleep tonight.

Something possessed me to make my way to the door. To this day, I don't know what it was. But, with a façade as pathetic as the one before, I bowed and asked him, vacuously, "It is late, your Highness. May I offer you something to help you sleep?"

He chuckled. I only hoped that he didn't see through me as much as that kind of laugh would indicate. His face became serious shortly after, as he replied, "Your company, if you could spare it." A breath's time passed. "…and maybe a bit of mead."

My eyes widened, my heart stopped and proceeded to collapse. Almost forever passed before I could respond, "Certainly, sire. I will return shortly." I left with a bow.

I kept thinking that, with any moment, I would wake from my slumber, having passed out by the well, shamelessly clutching his robes, having been found by the evening watch. If that were so, I only wished that the dream would last a little while longer. It was a lovely dream.

Passing through my room first, I, once again, changed my apron. I was a mess. Afterward, I made my way to the kitchen to obtain his drink. It was when I attempted to pour it that I realized just how badly my hands were shaking. A few deep breaths calmed me enough to manage the task, as did a laugh at just how foolish I was being. Just in case, I brought a tray to steady it, for my sake more than his. Years would pass before I would be capable of forgiving myself if I would fail (such a simple task).

Hoping I hadn't taken as much of forever as I thought I did, I returned to his chambers, setting the tray on what empty space was left on the desk, almost joyfully sitting on the little chair that had been my own for so many years. The small bit of familiarity was more than enough to bring my nerves down.

"You seem upset," I noted, "I'm guessing this is more than overwhelming for you."

"I thought my parents were farmers, and that I was just a priest. My life had already been worked out in my head. I was going to die peacefully in my own home after years of preaching wisdom to the people of Kvatch. Now, the town is destroyed, the nation is terrified, and I, with no skills or experience, am responsible for everything," he vented. Clearly, nobody had asked.

I would have loved to say that my presence and counsel was because of my selfless desire to provide for the emotional well-being of those are the temple. Even I tried to make myself believe it at the time. I did care, though, I promise, or else I would have left the moment he said he just wanted to talk. There was just this small part of me who craved his attention, even if I were a girl-shaped wall.

He continued to tell me just how intense of the current events have become. It was much more than just the assassination of a leader. The lines between realms have become blurred, he said, with gates opening, bringing vicious monsters to our peaceful towns. Out of nowhere, he was suddenly required to lead the people to safety, lock the doors, and because he could do nothing else, pray. Only the guard, led by a strange man who let him know that he was the heir to the throne, were able to save the remainder of the townspeople. Even the retelling of the events terrified me. I was even more powerless than he was. What saddened me the most was his dampened faith in the Nine, especially after the current events. I had never heard of a holy man's faith falter. They seemed above sorrow, above fear, with such perfect faith that nothing in the world could touch them. Surprisingly to some, I had more respect for him after he admitted his humanity. I had more faith in the nation knowing it would be led by another honest man.

"I only wonder what my real father would think of me. Clearly he knew I existed, but how would he feel, knowing I am the person in his seat? It haunts me."

Insanity possessed me as I leaned closer to him, my eyes meeting his once more. "I know you never knew him, but I did. He would not be disappointed at all. You are exactly what this nation needs, sire, someone who is dedicated, someone who is honest. The other skills will come in time, I assure you."

A wry smile spread across his lips, and with a look much unlike any holy man, he whispered to me, "You're sweet, but you know so little." I felt his hand on my jaw as he pulled me nearer, his lips brushing against my cheek. He had me flawlessly slain. My heart stopped then, erasing every impression I had of him. Exactly who is sitting at my best friend's desk? The shock must have made it to my face, for he withdrew quickly, avoiding eye contact for a while. He apologized barely audibly under his breath. Silence fell. A better woman would have left instantly, telling the grandmaster of the incident. I was no better woman. I wanted in his depraved clutches. I wanted to be forever his.

"What is it that I do not know?" I asked him, tilting my head slightly.

He laughed at me, clearly aware that I wasn't going to run off and tell on him, and responded with a grin, "Well, to start, you don't know my name."

"That is where you're wrong, of course I know your name. You have the same name as your father, it's 'Your Highness.'"

"I doubt you called him that."

"No, I didn't." The blasted tears returned once more. My gaze shot away from his, as if that would somehow hide my shame.

"Then, at least when speaking with me, call me by my name. It's Martin." He placed a cloth into my hand, letting his hands linger just a moment longer afterward. "I am no god, but a sinner in a holy man's robes. Now, I shouldn't keep you any longer than I have already. You'd best get to bed."

The thought broke me slightly. Deep down, even if it would have ruined me the next day, I wanted to speak with him until dawn. Or, even moreso, I would have died to…

"Will you be able to sleep tonight? Do promise you'll try."

"Of course." His warm smile graced me one again as he followed me to the door. I was mildly surprised when he stood. Most Imperial men weren't quite that tall…

He bid me farewell, much to my dismay. As I left for my chambers, I looked back one last time to see him still standing at the door. Out of curiosity, I paused, and glanced back at him. After he knew that he had caught my attention, he winked at me. It was then that I realized that I had become his dirty little secret.


	2. The Descent

I blew out the candle in the hallway, took the broom, and proceeded to make my way to my chambers. Looking out the window, I realized that I had no idea how late it was; we were just out of earshot from the Chapel's bells. All I knew is that I was out much too late being much too morally questionable. My bedroll beneath me, I held the doll Uriel gave me when I first got here. I could feel his judgment from an eternity away. The worst part was, there wasn't a single bit of me saying "never again." I was hoping for "soon."

What surprised me is that I didn't run away in terror upon being touched by someone, especially an older man. Of course he looked nothing like Father, but I've had these issues in the past. Gnawing at me the hardest was, "We have met so recently. Why do I trust him at all?" Every little girl is warned about people exactly like him, people who appear so kind, but are secretly malicious and corrupt. But, if he admitted it, was he one of those people, or just a man whom nobody had taken the time to listen?

Every ounce of me attempted to dismiss his advances as platonic. Perhaps he was just happy to have someone around. Perhaps he was just trying to show his respect and compassion toward me. Maybe he's just one of those people who expresses their friendship with more touch than what I'm used to. Each excuse was more pathetic than the last. I knew what he wanted, and I doubt he wanted much else. The kindness was a ruse. It had to be. He could have anyone in the world. The moment some beautiful woman with actual power came, I would be forgotten as fast as I was met. Of course this didn't stop my childish dreams, nor would it stop me from letting him have whatever he wanted. With a sigh, I blew out the candle beside me and clutched my doll (that I was much too old for). A sick part of me wanted it to be him.

I woke up the next morning, noticing that it was already dawn. I knew that would happen. Tying my bodice as quickly as I could manage, I realized that I would be spending another day undoing the damages caused by both my poor performance and my late night awake. A bit of tea served to keep my eyes open as I moved through returning the clean (not damp, thank the Nine) linens to their original places. People were already awake. I was even later than I thought…

A knife moved to my hand near automatically. The apples and pears had to be chopped, had to be prepared, tossed, seasoned somehow. Perhaps some cinnamon, some sugar, something. I could tell I was panicking, fighting back the visions, which always seemed to surface when tensions became high. The fruits fell to the plates, I rang the bell, and sat next to my plate, praying this was enough for them, that they wouldn't make a jab at how late I was up, or that they would dislike what I made. They'd never voiced issues before, but there is always a first time for everything. Watching their faces carefully as they moved into the room, I noticed no hateful stares my way. Perhaps they were masking them. People are complicated creatures very adept at disguise. The master of said skill sat next to me once again. I wasn't sure if I desperately wanted to look, or if I desperately wanted to look away. The former ended up victorious, returning my gaze to him. His cheerful, friendly smile was unsettling. Just what was he trying to prove?

The faster I was able to leave the dining area, the better. I couldn't even hear the people surrounding me, none of them. Gods, help me, I was beginning to shrink into a world I've been desperately trying to escape. Every time it ends, I think it will never happen again, only to have my optimism crushed. As people began to diffuse back to their duties, I took the plates into the kitchen and washed the dishes with what water was left in the bucket. My vision was beginning to fail. I decided that the back rooms were going to be my goal that day, taking the bucket to the well and fetching another rag on my way. I had become rather accustomed to the days the demons struck. As the voices began, my hands hit the floor on the east wing. The library was rarely visited, anyway, nor was the armory. Focus on the rag, make the floor clean. Focus on the rag, make the floor clean. **Clean until it's dark and then you can run.** Biting my lip, I attempted to keep my mind in the tangible realm. Slowly breathing, doing something simple, focusing on something I can touch and see, all of these things kept the demons at bay.

The rest of the day proceeded this way, flatly moving my way through the duties that I had fallen behind on, blindly arranging my environment to perfection to keep them away. A sense of dread passed through me before I realized that I could quickly pass through and collect the linens, then proceed to wash them near the well in the back. My chin to my chest, I made my way through the west wing, gathering the linens from the floor. Jena always folded them kindly near the door. Noticing that Martin was now in the front, reading as he was last night, I was unafraid of briefly entering his chambers to perform my duties. His robes lay folded close to the door as well. As I piled them with the others, my eyes widened visibly- they were still warm. Thankfully nobody caught me clutching them; I did so for a length of time I am not proud of. The temporary return of my sanity dissuaded my guilt as I traveled back to the well, my refuge.

Call me insane, as one probably would despite this, I loved washing the linens. The sun was out, the breeze was gentle, and I was my favorite place, alone. I probably didn't need to wash them every day, but it rarely failed to calm my nerves. And, with nobody around save for the usual people sparring out front, I found myself embracing his robes once more. I knew it was pathetic, and frankly, rather disturbing. After all, this man had only given me a miniscule amount of his attention. The sun's height in the sky brought me great relief, especially since the only responsibility I had left was supper. Then, I could be behind a closed door. Almost there, Alice, almost the- **RUN RUN RUN **

I winced. Holding on was becoming more and more difficult. Walking through the great hall as if it were fire, I started planning the meal. I decided on a sweeter variant on the last night's meal to use the rest of the beef. I knew it was salt-cured, but I didn't want to risk anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Martin was speaking to a stranger I hadn't seen at the temple before. **HIDE HE FOUND YOU** …no, no, he was a massive Nord. My father wasn't that tall. Martin is bigger than my father. This man is bigger than Martin. My breath was quickening and my vision started to blur. No. No. The man is bigger than Martin and Martin is bigger than Father. Just to be safe, I knew they wouldn't find me in the kitchen.

The recipe was a familiar one that didn't require much thought, but I watched the pot every second, stirring it near constantly, preparing a sweet sauce from some of the fruit I didn't use for breakfast, holding on tight to the tangible world. **MAKE IT STOP!** My wrist met the pot "accidentally" as I stooped lower than ever. Stay here, stay here, stay here. I could smell my flesh burning, and I could definitely feel it… The blistering pain brought me back. My vision was clear. I only hoped I never had to do that again. The meat smelled done, and pleasantly so. Thankfully, it overpowered the burning of my…

Dear Gods, the agony. Looking only made it worse. Only once had I been burned this badly, maybe twice. Taking a knife to one of my aprons, I bandaged my wrist, crushing a bit of aloe and cairn bolete to dull the pain. If anybody asked, I would just smile, laugh a little, and tell them that it was a careless cooking accident. Serving the food was a bit of a challenge, but it did, at least, ground me. It took a bit longer than I would have liked, but a sense of relief occurred as I rang the bell. Each one of the Blades filed in and sat in their usual seat, however the Nord wasn't present at the table.

It burned. The pain wouldn't leave my mind, but it was forever better than the alternative. Thankfully it was my right hand; I didn't want to eat like an infant. My right arm lay hidden underneath the table. Martin didn't need to see this. As brilliantly as he's seen through me in the past, I wouldn't even let him _see_ my arm.

I didn't even have to look to notice he was next to me. The same warmth I clutched like an arena champion's stalker graced me once more. Conversation quickly began about the table about the same cult mentioned last night, this time, it was much more serious. Panicked speech about the destruction of our realm and the end of times terrified me. This sounded a lot more like my fairy tale book than anything that could be called real. I had trouble even believing it. Normally, cultists are just squawkers of lies taken seriously by nobody, but they were clearly being taken seriously here. Dinner couldn't have ended soon enough.

The moment I could, I ran to my chambers. Shutting the door hard, I clutched my doll and buried my face in my knees. I hated days like this. **NOWHERE IS SAFE **Cowering, I hid underneath my blanket. The world was slipping from my grasp the entire day, but I couldn't let go. I couldn't let them win…

Harder. I firmly grasped my burned arm and almost screamed as I did so. It was no coincidence that I felt my awareness return, but there had to be another way. My book of fairy tales spread over my lap, I plunged again into the story of the valiant knight, as if I even needed the book to recite it. Anywhere but there. Anywhere but there… and sleep was not an option. The demons follow me there.

The battle waged on for hours. Every hour I fought, I realized that it was another losing battle. There were a lot of things I would do to stay away from…there. My dagger made its way to my hand. No. This can't be the only way… there must be another away. I should read my stories; I should hold my doll. Nothing was going to work. It cannot be the only way… one cut to my leg. I could feel them recede. Anywhere but there. Anywhere but there. Two cuts. Three cuts. Blood. So much blood…

And yet, my vision blurred. His whispers became the drunken bellowing I so despise. Four-five-six I can't live like this. A seductive touch that turned to fear the moment I shed a single tear. An arm pulls forward and I pull back. Cut it off. Cut him off. Run away. Fingers on my neck tighten as I know I can't fight back. Close my eyes and pray his grasp becomes too strong. It'll be dark soon. Cut it off. Cut him off. Run away.

Gasping, I realized what I did was permanent. My heart was about to break out of my chest. As the world began the fade, the pain began to fade, and I started to gain the peace I finally desired. It didn't feel like it'd be long before the darkness came to relieve me. Tears fell down my cheeks as I wondered for a moment, was this really the only way? This couldn't be the only way. However, it was the way, and I couldn't take it back.


	3. Afterlife

I didn't quite know what the afterlife would hold for me. I was neither a brave warrior nor a master of the hunt. The books suggest that I would go to the Dreamsleeve, perhaps getting another chance at life, but with my way of death, I knew those chances were slim. My hopes were that I would return to High Rock and visit my beloved grandmother again, or float into the sky and become a cloud. I doubted that I would ever see Uriel or Renault ever again, though, for they were much more honorable than me.

My senses slowly began to materialize. Perhaps the Gods wanted to punish me for my sins by keeping my wounds intact, for I felt them intensely. It was terribly dark and the air was thin, which made me worry that I was traveling to a realm of eternal punishment. The smell of blood reinforced this. Trying to be optimistic, I hypothesized that I was between worlds, my spirit traveling to somewhere more beautiful than this. But, I wasn't moving, I didn't think. I was sitting still.

A faint glow was before me, making me wonder where, exactly, I was. A face was in the distance, or was it near? Far away? Approaching? Was it a god, a spirit, or just another human like me? I was clearly sitting somewhere. As time passed, I noticed I was sitting against a wall. Gods, could it be?

Alive. I hadn't the slightest idea how or why, but I was alive. The world was a surreal and unrecognizable place, but I knew well it was mine. With the glowing fading temporarily, I saw that it was Martin before me. Either I wished I was dead, or I was forever elated to be alive; it was impossible to tell. Attempting to speak, all that could escape me was a groan. My eyes opening fully, he, slightly out of breath, gasped, "Please tell me you're still sentient."

"Sentient?" I asked, slightly dazed, "What else would I be?"

"Undead," he replied. An eerie silence rose. "I have so many questions. But… now's not the time."

Whatever healing spell he was using, it was more localized than what I was used to seeing. I expected no less from a chapel priest, but I was still quite impressed with the level of skill he possessed. He had closed the slit in my throat before I resurfaced, which was something I couldn't do, even if I exhausted my resources.

"Do tell me if I'm making you uncomfortable, but I don't advise you leave these wounds unattended. I needn't say why."

So calm, so professional. It was obvious that he has done this a million times before, likely recently during the siege at Kvatch. It wasn't until recently I realized just how deep the gashes were, yet he just moved through them… systematically, like I would wash linens. Sweet relief graced me as he closed the wounds, one by one. Though I hated myself for it, I was deeply enjoying the closeness to him. The warmth from his robes had nothing on this. Feeling him gently roll back my sleeves, even _he_ cringed slightly upon revealing my forearms.

"So many questions," he mumbled as he continued. A bit of unease grew as I wondered if he would tell others, if others knew, and what they would do after my complete lapse to sanity. I would hate to lose my job here. No longer did I worry about his opinion of me, though. It was clear that he finally knew me as I was, a madwoman. I had no hope with him to begin with, but I had less than that after he found me in a pool of my own blood. Even if everything was lost and I was as good as dismissed from the temple, at least the pain was going away. At least I could enjoy his closeness, which felt more divine than I was willing to admit.

"I must emphasize this once more. Please stop me if I'm making you uncomfortable." His eyes met mine. At first I had no idea what he was talking about, or why he'd even ask, but then it became clear… my legs. Of course I wasn't going to stop him. As noble as he was sounding, I wondered in the back of the mind if the nobility was just a sinister way to gain my trust. The ones on my legs were the worst, or at least they felt the worst. Contrary to my wishes, he didn't lift my skirt. As much as he could, he even avoided touching my thigh. Damn him. Even in my bloodless stupor I wanted him, more and more desperately by the second. I was beginning to become disgusted with myself, wanting to be defiled by the priest who healed me. A sigh of relief escaped me as the pain was finally gone. I thanked him for his time; even for a healer, that couldn't have been easy.

The mess. I didn't realized I had that much blood in my body. As the strength slowly returned, so did my sense of smell… it was awful. The stone was going to be stained permanently. Shaking my head, I knew that it was already too late to remove the stains completely, but with the help of the improvised surfactant I made, that might change…

Standing up was a little more difficult than I'd hoped. Martin chuckled, asking me exactly what I intended on doing. He tried not to laugh more when I told him that I had a mess to clean. When realizing that I was actually being serious, he offered to retrieve my mixture, gently suggesting that I change into a different dress in his absence. His calm almost disturbed me.

It wasn't long before the stone was cleared. I only hoped that this was the last time that I had to clean up my own blood. Turning to Martin, I bowed and thanked him, expecting that he would want to return to bed after practically reconstructing my body. However, he mentioned having some questions to ask…

"Now that's dealt with, I wanted to ask… what drove you to this?"

There wasn't much less he could think of me. I decided that being elusive wouldn't benefit me, so I told him the truth, "I have visions, intense ones, that bring me much discomfort. Intense pain seems to keep them at bay. Tonight, they didn't."

It was difficult to describe his expression. Whatever it was, it wasn't even close to the one I was expecting. There was no disgust, no judgment, not even disappointment. Perhaps others had come to his chapel with similar problems, perhaps that was why he seemed so adjusted. He probably spent his entire life hearing the complaints of the depressed, the ailing, and the possessed. The makings of a fine emperor were within him, for sure.

"Visions?" he asked, likely not expecting an answer, "I, myself, have been cursed with many a sleepless night due to these, brutally reminding me of what I would love to forget. I know how real they are, all too well." He continued shortly afterward. "So, you did not intend to take your own life?"

"I…I'm not sure. At first, definitely not, I just wanted the visions to cease. As time passed, the battle seemed more hopeless, and I become more and more desperate to make it stop. Other than that, I don't remember," I responded, the flatness disappearing from my voice. Much quieter, I added, "I really don't want to be alone right now."


	4. Infinitesimal Victory

My heart fluttered as his hand reached my shoulder, but moreso as he told me, "As if I'd let you leave my sight. Not after this. Now, perhaps you could join me in my chambers. It's much warmer there, and I'd think you'd rather be out of this room for a while."

Of course I agreed, so, proceeding to his room (and stumbling quite a bit as I did so), I slowly stopped regretting that he found me. At first I was embarrassed to stumble into him as he guided me up the stairs, but as soon as I realized that he was more amused than annoyed, I became amused as well. As if I were a drunken fool, the need cling to the floor to keep from falling off arose. My choice in the matter was limited, for my legs gave at the top of the stairs. I wasn't sure if I should laugh or cry, so I chose laughter and hoped for the best. Though it was probably completely innocent that he offered his hand to help me up, it sent shivers anyway. Like everything else, his hands dwarfed mine by a great deal…

I was slightly relieved to sit down once we reached his room. He was right, it was warmer; the lower rooms often became cold during the evening. After draping a blanket over my shoulders (dear Gods it smelled of him… I hoped I hid my pleasure well) he brought a chair next to me and lit the lantern at the desk for some extra light. "Now, these visions of yours, it is clear that they disturb you. Perhaps talking about them may help you?" A smirk escaped the side of his mouth. "Though the practice is good for me, I would hate to find you like that again."

If there were ever an opportunity to spill, that was the time. I kept reassuring myself that his opinion of me couldn't possibly get any worse. He saw me a sobbing wreck over his father, a nervous wreck over my duties, and, the greatest offender, in a pool of my own self-inflicted blood. I took a deep breath, looked down from him, and employed the long-dead art of time magic. My hands, trembling, made a small tear before me, glowing a bright lilac light as something long past materialized. It was certain that running away wasn't going to destroy the visions; my options were limited and I was willing to try anything. As the edges of the tear sharpened, he held my hand and whispered to me, "A brave endeavor, but please, only show me what you can. I know how terrifying this is." His grip tightened slightly as the image finally became clear. There was no turning back.

_My mother's complexion grew more pale with the day. Her alchemical endeavors, her pride and joy, were going to lead to her death. The power of various caps and fungi may be incredible, but she wasn't at all prepared for the undead that swarmed her. She fought them well, and for a while, we thought that she escaped unharmed. The reanimated may be generally weak in constitution, but the diseases they carry are deadly. Healers, priests, alchemists… nobody knew exactly what she contracted. I personally thought it was a severe case of Collywobbles, and attempted to treat her with the plants that I gathered, but to no avail. If I were as talented as she, this disease would have never been a problem. Between tending to her and searching for plants and ingredients, I was exhausted, but I still cursed my weakness when I finally had to retire to my bed. _

_After days of tireless searching, I developed a sense of hopelessness. I knew well that time was limited, but if the masters of my craft couldn't discover a cure, how could I? For the rest of her days, I simply gave her whatever analgesic I could create and watched my hopes grow thinner as she did, despite my efforts to keep her fed. It was then that my father and I started to fight. _

_It started out as small things when the tensions were high. Father would ask, with a sharp tone, why I had retired so early from gathering herbs. No matter what excuse I gave, I knew it wouldn't be enough. At least we'd go into another room so Mother would be spared. Those things were completely normal. I'd seen many an argument between a father and his children. _

_Then, the lines started blurring. Sometimes I would start to wonder whether or not his anger was justified, but he was great at convincing me. One day, I was slow to rise, and Mother didn't get her morning meal. Sometimes, I would be irresponsible and shirk my duties entirely. Of course he was supposed to be furious, my mother was inches away from death and I was found chatting with others in the marketplace. Once, one of my potions didn't turn out right, and it ended up making matters worse. That was the worst. That was the first time he'd ever laid a hand on me. He was always so sorry when his frustration got the best of him, and I was quick to forgive, half because I loved my father, but half because I was deathly afraid of the consequences. _

_Mother's passing was painstakingly slow. Both in life and in death, she was one of the most stubborn people to have ever lived. Toward the end, I knew I couldn't make her better, but I did everything in my power to keep her as comfortable as I could. When she began thrashing, I even went as far as to paralyze her. My use of those kinds of mixtures was questionable, but it felt right at the time. I kept having to check whether or not she was alive, because after a while, it became almost impossible to tell just by looking at her. A sense of relief was what overcame me when she finally passed on. The shadow I sat beside all those days was not my mother, not at all._

_My parents were madly in love with each other, and had always been. My father was never the same after Mother died, and for some reason, it was only her death before he truly transformed into the monster that I knew for the rest of my prematurely-ended childhood. I did my best to comfort him, but the most comforting thing for him was the strongest drink he could find. My life became a nightmare._

_Anger and sexual frustration were taken out on the safest target he could find, especially when he had too much to drink (which became perpetual as time passed.) It wasn't so bad at first, some harsh words, some inappropriate glances, and I thought they would pass. When the anger started harsher, it was because I was being callous and insensitive. Then… No. But, I always deserved it. My life goal transformed into being the best little girl I could. For a while, it worked. I kept to myself, he kept to the bar. I would just make sure to be in my (locked) chambers. Everything was going to be okay, and his drinking habit would surely pass, I thought. This was true until the night he knocked on my door…_

My hands flashed frantically over the tear, erasing it as swiftly as possible. The winds created enough of a force to darken the lantern. I shouldn't have done that. I knew I shouldn't have done that but I was desperate for relief from the visions, and I knew well that my ability to speak coherently was lacking. Knots in my stomach grew tighter as I felt my composure slip, but, at the same time, a sense of euphoria filled me. This was the first time that I had a true witness to my father's crimes, the first time I broke the silence. Someone knows. Was it terrifying or liberating? For quite a while, I sat, more in a state of shock than fear, enough to almost forget that Martin was at my side.

He placed his hand on mine, more cautiously this time, but the air remained wordless. This was the first time that I was unbothered by the silence. It was more a sense of quietude, and as time passed, a sense of victory. Someone saw what my father was truly like when eyes turned away. He was exposed for the monster he is. I was victorious.

Martin relit the lantern; the light hurt my eyes slightly. Priests will hear a million sad stories in their lifetimes, so, of course, he was far from sobbing out of pity. I was thankful. I didn't want his pity, or anyone's. His empathy, however, was more valuable than a million gold pieces. That the heir to the throne could empathize with the temple's insane maid reminded me of the most valuable lesson Uriel ever taught me: people may wear different clothes, but without them, they'd look the same… and what horrible things I would do prove said notion. What horrible, terrible things… I craved Martin's touch and attention sorely.

"You didn't have to," he said, his voice startling me.

"I wanted to tell someone," I replied, "but I'm not particularly good at talking."

"My awkward speech was no better." Laughing nervously, I could tell such things were still grating on him. I had a lot of respect for him. There is no telling what would happen if I were in his place.

"How is it any different from preaching? You're still granting hope to those who have none."

A short pause passed before he answered, "Perhaps, yes, but nobody expected the priest to directly eliminate their woes. That was the Gods' responsibility, not mine. This time, it is _mine,_ and people are turning to _me_ for the solution. The only reason I have a chance is because of the support of the Blades, and the man who saved us at Kvatch."

"Is that what brings you visions?"

"No. But, that's for another time. Little girls should be in bed at this hour."

"I'm nineteen!" I protested.

He shook his head, sighing, "Gods, I'm more than twice your age."

As our eyes met, I could see the guilt in his face. It had just hit him. My only hope was that the guilt wouldn't make him avoid me for the rest of my days. I doubted he would continue giving me his attention, the one thing I was so desperate to obtain.

"I'm guessing that's my cue to leave." I began to turn away from him.

"You think I'd send you off, having seen you in a pool of your own blood but a few hours earlier? What kind of man do you think I am?" That was the first time I ever heard his voice raised, subtle as it was.

I responded, with a surprisingly matter-of-fact tone, "A guilty one."

"I ran out of guilt years ago, believe me."

He noticed the confused look on my face and let out a deep sigh. "Another night, perhaps. I grow weary."

"I don't want to go," I blurted, all but placing my hands on my mouth.

He got that look again, the one that I thought I'd never see again. Taking a step closer to me, he asked, his voice almost sounding like a different person, "Who says you must?"

My heart raced the moment that left his lips. That couldn't possibly mean… I stood still as the blood started rushing to my face. A thousand different questions entered my mind simultaneously. The more time that passed before my response, the more I panicked. I looked up to him, enchanted by his gaze. I didn't have to say a word. In less than a second, our lips met.

Whatever was unleashed, it was neither a priest nor a saint. During those moments, I finally started to realize what he meant that first night. His fingers made their way through my hair, and suddenly…his grip tightened. Hard. Before I knew it, my back was against a wall and my lips were being devoured. Bliss, such perfect bliss. That was how it was supposed to feel. The world disappeared around me, leaving only the two of us. Inhibitions gone, my hands explored his body as I had craved since I carried his luggage here. More and more, he leaned against me, his hips gently pressing into mine. I could feel his heart pounding fiercely against my chest.

Playfully shoving me onto the bed, his robes disappeared, leaving only slacks. The moment our lips departed felt like an eternity, but moments later, they drew together once more as I was thrown to his bed. The heat emanating from him was palpable as his tongue slipped between my lips, a very talented tongue… I quivered at the thought of what other sinful things he could accomplish with it. My thighs fell spread as he teased the back of my neck with his fingers. He knew exactly where to touch; without a doubt, I was in the palm of his hand. His eyes began to widen as he noticed my legs move apart. Trembling, I felt fingernails gently gracing the inside of my thigh. Perfect. He was too damn perfect. Lips now at my ear, he whispered deeply, "Don't scream."

Seizing back, grinding my teeth, it took every ounce of willpower I had left to comply to his demands. It didn't take long for it to erode, especially as he moved his fingers deeper. Faster, Gods, please, faster. The sick bastard was teasing me. I needed the release so desperately, but he held me painfully on the edge. I finally resorted to thrusting against his hand. I couldn't take it. A quiet moan escaped him as I did. At last, he granted me what I desired, a kiss silencing my screams. He smirked as I lay there in a daze, taking a moment for us both to catch our breath.

Caressing my cheek, he asked me simply, "May I?"

I cringed. He deserved it, yes. I knew that he wanted it, of course. Only wicked women said "no." Only bad little girls said "no." I didn't want to be a bad little girl. Bad little girls get punished. My expression must have been visible to him. Rolling off of me, he reached for his robes. Tears filled my eyes. I let him down. He would never want to see me again. I didn't give him what he wanted, so I was no use to him. More tears… pathetic.

"It's okay," he said, lying next to me, "I wasn't blind to what you showed me. My questions are not masked demands, truly."

Perhaps he wasn't a lie, but I was still skeptical. That night, I decided to believe the lie. Whatever honeyed words he delivered, they were going to be taken as truth. I grew so weary of my doubts and suspicions. He was nothing like the evil men I was warned of. There was one thing that I couldn't understand.

"Why did you save me?" I asked, turning toward him.

"Two answers. I would piously tell others that every human life is worthwhile. I believe that with every fiber of my being, but, in reality, I'm a lonely old man, tired of sleepless nights."

"I hated you at the time for not letting me die, but many thanks for the second chance. I must also thank you for being the witness to my father's crimes. It's small, but it means the world."

"It's the least I can do." He reached over me to extinguish the lantern. I took the hint. For one night, I would be the empress. Perhaps not the empress, perhaps just a common whore, I never knew. Regardless, I found myself clutching him.

"Goodnight," he whispered, kissing my forehead gently. Perhaps something other than a common whore, I never knew. Regardless, I was the one who fell asleep in his arms, the place where the demons couldn't touch me.


	5. Two Wolves

I woke up to a gentle nudge by Martin, noting that it was just before. I breathed a sigh of relief. Oversleeping would have been fatal for us for different reasons. Even then, I realized that many were either awake or soon to be awake. Exactly how were we going to get away with this? Panic moved through me. His calm unnerved me once again as he whispered, "trust me."

He started to thumb through the limited number of books on a nearby shelf. Settling on a few healing spell tomes, he then marked a page in one of them and replaced the rest on the shelf. Tossing me a comb silently, it was clear that time was of the essence. The knots were pretty bad, as I had expected; getting them out was a painful endeavor, complicated by the fact that it had to be done quickly. As I was ripping through my hair, I wondered what he intended to do with those spell tomes. Braids seemed like the shortest way to look reasonable. Shortly after, he returned to me, book in hand.

"How are you for walking?" he asked, trying keep his voice down.

"Not great," I replied, realizing the implications of this problem.

A cocky expression appeared on his face, and he began to laugh a little. He placed his arm around my back and said, "Perfect. Now lean on me, and look… look like you're not feeling well."

As if I needed to act. What surprised me most was that his actions almost looked like this was a general procedure. He wasn't exaggerating earlier at all. It was obvious that I was far from the first, and likely far from the last. When this was finished, he would escape a hero. I wasn't sure whether I was offended or aroused.

My heart stopped as the door creaked open. Grandmaster Jauffre stood immediately outside. I tried for a glazed-over face, but then again, I appeared wrecked to begin with.

"Good morning, your Highness," he said, his tone a bit more condescending than what I expected from him.

Martin, with such a flawless composure, said, "Good morning, Grandmaster. My apologies, but this is rather urgent. Could you tell me where the potions are kept?"

"Why yes, they're in the east wing near the library," he answered, clearly buying into it, "Forgive me." He left, flustered, shortly afterward.

After making a number of controlled falls down the stairs, I finally made it back to my room. The lack of noticeable bloodstains was a joy to see. One less lie to have to tell. Before leaving, Martin knelt at my side, placing a blanket over me. "I'll take care of the rest, just focus on recovering for now. You were attacked by a mountain lion while collecting the clothes this morning, after all." He motioned to the rather conspicuous scarring on my forearm. "I'm glad I found you when I did, he was a vicious one."  
>"I'm guessing we can't make a habit of this."<p>

"No, we can't. I might not be able to heal you next time."

"You _know_ what I mean."

"Ah." That same cocky expression returned as his voice lowered. "We'll see about that."

He kissed me passionately once more before he left, leaving me almost delirious with lust. My spirits were dampened by his absence, but the time alone was more than enough to try to process all of this. Looking to my right, I noticed my doll sitting at the opposite side of the room. I brought her to my side, rules be damned. Upon closer examination I noticed just how worn she had become over the years. Like most dolls purchased off of Khajit caravans, she was a feather-stuffed burlap sack, cut and sewn into the shape of a little girl. Her painted button eyes had eroded, leaving them the same dull brown as the rest of her. Her little blue dress (that I had sewn her, a long, long time ago) had faded to nearly black. None of this mattered to me. I embraced her, thinking once more of Uriel, weeping silently.

But, could I take comfort knowing that the empire is in good hands? He may spend countless hours fighting to solve the Crisis, but his ability to lie so perfectly, and his smug confidence in doing so, worried me. Once he gained his full governing power at the throne, I could only imagine how easy it would be for him to abuse it. Horror stories of tyrants disposing of any dissenting voices while being adored by the public flashed before my eyes. At the same time, I met the man who stood by me while I watched the content of my most hated nightmares; I saw the man who handled me so gently when I shared his bed. Perhaps he was using it as means to an end. There was no way to tell. I then understood what Uriel meant when he told me that each person had two wolves inside of them. I only wondered which one Martin truly fed.

Rolling onto my stomach, I cursed myself for my inability to move comfortably on my own. Caroline would likely take over my duties for the next few days, for the smallest actions left me struggling for breath. Thankfully, the volumes of stories I accrued over the years would prove useful in passing the time before I could work again. As I reached for _The Madness of Pelagius,_ a knocking sound came from my door. It was Grandmaster Jauffre.

"I trust Martin has left you in a stable condition?" he asked, the suspicion still in his voice. It looks like I still had some fast talking to manage.

"Indeed he has," I replied, attempting to emulate the demeanor that Martin had perfected so well, "I'm only glad he found me when he did. I was up particularly early that morning and was worried that nobody would. My injuries were rather severe." A small celebration erupted in my mind as I motioned, as Martin had, to my arm.

He seemed satisfied with my answers, but it bothered me that he was so suspicious. I knew that he lived in the priory as a monk (they generally oppose extramarital sexual encounters) but I wouldn't think that he would go as far as to start questioning Martin the moment he sees a woman leaving his room. A thousand different scenarios plagued me. Perhaps he heard us, saw us, or saw through his clever disguise. Maybe he knew Martin's apparent "history," whatever it was. More than anything, I desperately tried to keep the fear from appearing on my face. A great sense of relief filled me once more as he nodded and bid me farewell. Finally, I could return to my books.

Reading of Pelagius was always a reassuring reminder that I was not alone in my insanity. Though I tried to hide my visions, I knew that, like Pelagius, my "quirks" were probably well-known. Maybe the writer of the book was one of the elite few, but Tsathenes seemed to do what I hoped the rest of the world did: he did not call Pelagius's madness a flaw of character or spirit. Then again, he wrote like a historian, reporting what happened with as little personal commentary as possible. I would rather believe the former.

The rest of the day was a blur of sleep and wakefulness. My mind constantly lingered back to Martin, who was likely in the Great Hall, conversing with the Blades and that big, scary-looking Nord. Oh, how he so brilliantly assumed his position with little experience; how his healing abilities rivaled Gureryne's. But, I was fooling myself with all of this, or, I mostly was. What kept bringing my mind back to him, in reality, was how he could send me above the clouds with a single touch. Over and over, I envisioned the moment when he moved his hand so deftly up my dress, how he penetrated me with his fingers… Closing my eyes, I could almost see his perfect face again. My hands traveled downward as my body begged me for his touch; my memories only barely sufficient enough to answer its cries. Part of me wondered if I should have let him corrupt me fully, but, truly, there wasn't much to corrupt. _That_ was long gone.

Night fell much sooner than I thought it would, but it was already taking too long. Too much time alone and still was always a problem for me. My thoughts were cruel; my conscience was harsh. I had all but banned myself from the thought that I was defiled in the place where Uriel slept. I knew well that the guilt would do nothing but pain me, and that nothing at all would deter me from receiving every ounce of attention that Martin was willing to give.

Strange cycles of mostly sleeping and wondering what time of day it was passed before my eyes; my recovery was so damned slow. The wounds were closed, but the internal damages were long from resolved. Finally, the long-awaited morning came when I could return to my duties. Martin's absence, though discouraging, was justified. The conversation above my room way barely audible enough to know that tensions have definitely risen. I almost didn't want to know why.

Thankfully, Caroline already fed everyone, so I made my rounds through the temple to begin the routine once more. Of course, I was a bit slow to start. I crossed through the great hall with a pile of linens to make myself appear busy. So much happened. An additional table was slid over to hold the piles of volumes that Martin gathered, while quite a few people were gathered around him. He raised his voice suddenly when the big Nord passed him another one, which startled me enough that I dropped some of what I was carrying. Tensions were definitely high.

After catching up on linens, I took inventory of the kitchen, not at all surprised that it needed to be restocked. I was almost happy about that, because I always reacted to the stress of others, regardless of whether or not they intended to take it out on me. Jena was always easy to find, her routine even more predictable than mine. Since money was the only reason that I spoke to her on duty, I normally didn't even have to ask. This time, though, I requested for funds to replace the dress torn by the "mountain lion attack" in addition to the food money.

"Get a pretty one," she said, dropping a number of coins into my hand. I was ecstatic. Only when I turned away did my suspicions rise, but I doubted that Jena was even capable of deception. It was too unlike her.

One last time before I left for Bruma, I passed through the great hall. The people who were gathered around Martin had dissipated. Willing to do almost anything for his attention, I walked up to him, bowed politely, and asked, "Excuse me, your Highness, but I notice that you have accumulated a number of volumes here recently. I pass Bruma's Mages Guild on the way to the marketplace; is there anything that I should request for you?"

He stopped to think for a moment, which made me rather nervous. After a while, he replied, "No, I believe I have everything I need here. I will let you know if this changes, thank you." I almost turned away after a short pause, but he continued, "It appears you have recovered well."

"Yes, milord. Your aid was much appreciated."

His gaze softened slightly as he looked up from his book for a moment. "I only hope this is the last time my skills will be so urgently required."

I could feel the blood rush to my face. Pathetic. With a curtsy, I left him to his work as I continued to mine. Even moments of his attention brought me such joy. Thankfully, nobody could read my thoughts (to my knowledge.) I would be so ashamed if someone ever did.

Leaving for Bruma with two sacks instead of my basket, I noticed a rather ominous darkening of the sky. Stormy weather seemed to be approaching, so dawdling in the forest wasn't going to be an option. It was days like these that I really wished I had a horse. I took the straightest path I could to obtain materials for supper. When I reached there, I was relieved to know that nobody had closed shop due to the weather. The usual staples for meals were all I gathered. My dress was the last thing I gathered, my near childish tastes showing when I finally decided on what to purchase. The shopkeeper made a harsh comment about how she thought she'd never get rid of it. I left silently, those types always frightening me, regardless of whether or not they're harmful.

By the time I had finished, the sky became darker still. Making haste, I left through the north gate and straight onto the road to the temple. The moisture content in the air wasn't particularly high, nor were the winds indicative of a coming storm. Regardless of the weather, the skies worried me and I wanted to return home. A hissing sound behind me insured that it wasn't just the skies that were frightening. I shouldn't have turned around. Behind me was a vaguely humanoid creature with pointed ears and yellowed skin. Other than that, I did not spend much time observing. The vast majority of my time was spent sprinting away, dodging its flares only barely. Needless to say, my return to Cloud Ruler Temple was swift.

Once the burst of energy caused by fear wore off, what remained was a pair of very sore legs, and an amount of dizziness that made it difficult to stand. My body wasn't ready for that, it probably wasn't ready for a leisurely stroll to Bruma, either. Since most people were gathered around the middle of the Great Hall with Martin, I was able to sneak off to the kitchen without people noticing how winded I was. The rest of the day proceeded normally, the one exception being that I was moving rather slowly so certain tasks took more time. This did not bother me, for it meant that I had the excuse to stay up late in order to finish my duties, which gave me a good chance of spending time with Martin again. After what happened today, I needed a bit of company.

As predicted, the library was a horrible mess. It took forever to return the remaining books into alphabetical order, but there is no other way to keep a library. It felt wrong to leave it out of order like that. My absence also left a thin layer of dust over all of the light sconces and alchemy equipment, which is one of the many reasons I keep a cloth attached on my belt. After sweeping, I started scrubbing between stones where the broom couldn't reach. I couldn't have _that_ building up. Unfortunately, Caroline must have been too busy to keep up with the sweeping. I could never hold it against her, though. She was still a Blade, after all.

I was more prepared for a late night this time, so I had my lantern ready when it became dark. For the first time, nightfall was a joyful event. I marched across the Great Hall to sweep again (it tended to get rather dusty when so many people passed through) and made my way to the west wing. The sconces were dusty here as well, and one had a spider web. I cursed my extended absence and dusted each one. It was dark enough that only my lantern's light illuminated the short hall. Done. Everything was done. Everything was in order. I could finally rest. Slightly winded, I made my way up the stairs.

The thin ribbon of light coming from Martin's room was unsurprising. Taking a minute to calm the butterflies, I adjusted my skirts and made sure my hair was still properly held back. A moment of breathlessness passed as I knocked on his door. It took him a while to answer, just long enough to make me worry that I wouldn't be able to see him. Finally, the door opened, revealing the man who stops my heart. He looked weary. I only hoped I didn't wake him.

To appease anybody in earshot, I bowed and defaulted to, "You seem tense, sire. May I offer food or drink?"


	6. Atonement

"A drink would be lovely. If any remains, I would prefer some mead. Thank you."

I returned with it a minute later, almost spilling it in my haste. My feelings for him were infantile. I would expect such behaviors from a young, fumbling mage in her first year of the academy, having developed feelings for one of the instructors. After setting the drink on his desk, I sat next to him. It had been much too long since I joined his side.

"I was hoping you'd come," he said, hardly audible.

"It would be foolish to ask what was wrong. I've seen the kind of pressure you've been under. You've been dealing with it so well."

"Too well," he retorted, almost instantly, "Though the wisdom I've gained through my mistakes has been vital, it is a bitter reminder of the damage I've caused."

"Bitter reminders. It's starting to make sense now." I moved closer to him.

He finally decided to set the book down. It was clear that I wasn't the only one who dodged fear with devoted work.

"Yes. There is so much I haven't told you, or anyone. Nobody here knows what a fool I was, long before I was a priest. It is hard to accept that the man twenty years ago was me, but, in many ways, I am still that man."

My hand fell to his shoulder. "I know your type. You're much too hard on yourself, sire."

"You don't know anything," he growled, finally snapping. His composure reassembled itself within seconds, regret filling his eyes. "It's about time you did."

"I'm listening."

He took a rather large drink before beginning. It had been a long day.

"As I said, I wasn't always a priest. Raised by farmers, I became bored of such a simple existence and joined the Mages Guild. I wanted knowledge; I wanted power. Of course, you know that the Guild, especially then, was extremely restrictive on what forms of magic were allowed. Upon joining, I became associated with a few other apprentices who shared my… curiosities. We were the misfits of the guild, much different than our introverted, scholarly peers. Our days were filled with forbidden studies, the nights filled with debauchery and vice. The exhilaration was intoxicating. No more was I bound by the strict morals of my parents or the rules of the guild. Even without the aid of the Daedra, I had some form of power to call my own.

I am disgusted to this day by my reputation among my friends. Likely to your surprise, once upon a time, I was considered an attractive young man. I used it maliciously with every woman I desired, my weakness, of course, being women of service. I knew how to pull every string without casting a single spell. I knew that many of those barmaids were but scared little girls inside, and I preyed on exactly that. Given one evening, I could be any girl's knight in shining armor, her one true love, the man who would swoop down and save her from her misery, and her trust would be mine. You can infer the rest yourself. Can you believe that people envied me for this? I was a monster.

Sanguine, of course, benefitted greatly from us. Under his direction, we would go to parties, pranking the upper class in every way imaginable. As the son of a very poor man, I took pleasure in causing as much discomfort to these folk as possible. Each one represented the collectors of taxes too high for my family to pay, the people my father feared would seize our property if we didn't. Their discomfort, embarrassment, and occasional fear pleased me so. Once, a spell undressed everyone at the party; another time, we induced horrid hallucinations on one of the party members, which ended up being permanent. We felt no guilt. It wasn't _our _fault that he responded in such a way. We were just taking orders. It was for a good cause, means to an end, or a thousand other rationalizations. Each prank was more dangerous than the last. He finally granted us the Sanguine Rose, but suggested that we would gain even more power if we continued taking his requests. My friends wanted to move on to other endeavors, but I was set on the knowledge and power I was promised. Convincing them to come with me was easy, too easy. We tricked our way into one of the biggest gatherings in Cyrodiil, and found a perfect place to hide. All we had to do was cast a spell over the entire chamber when the host addressed all of the partygoers. It was going to be hilarious; everyone would have a six-hour lapse of memory and forget how they came to the party.

Upon casting the spell, it was true that everyone lost a few hours of memory, but, in the confusion, a fire started. There were so many people in such a closed space, getting out was almost impossible. I took the opportunity to escape through a hidden exit, cowering a distance away from the building, watching as it slowly collapsed on itself. Screams erupted. I was separated from everyone. Hardly able to identify any of the bodies in the aftermath, the hope of finding and healing my friends diminished quickly.

I finally found one of them at the bottom of the balcony, and proceeded to heal him out of desperation. Hours passed. The process almost killed me. Hope started to rekindle itself when I saw the life return to his eyes, but it wasn't quite life that returned. When he walked, it wasn't his walk. Only when he 'spoke' did I realize exactly what I'd done. For the longest time, he…it… stood there with a glazed-over expression, producing some sort of scream that sounded somewhat like distress, but it was nothing like anything I had seen in this world before. Whatever it was, it was pained, horribly so; I had… I had to kill him. All means of more humane extermination were gone from me, so I had to resort to something barbaric. When I came at him with my dagger, he never fought back. He just stared into my eyes, blankly, with less expression than a statue. The pale white glow in his eyes didn't fade until I mutilated his corpse beyond repair. The screams became more intense as I did so, as a look of betrayal grew on his face. Even if it wasn't my friend, it was the image of him. Though all of the damages done were mine, it wasn't until I held the dagger in my hand that I realize the mess I had made. Returning the Rose, completing my pilgrimage, becoming a priest, and serving the gods may have earned their forgiveness, but I have not earned my own. I may never earn my own."

By then, he was weeping quietly. I wish I were as excellent as crafting words as he. Each time I tried to think of something, but each time, my mind came back blank. I should have felt sympathy, and to a degree, empathy; but there was much bitterness in my heart. It was clear that he did to me what he must have done to countless other girls, and his greed caused the deaths of many. What sickened me the most was that the former was the one weighing on my heart. At the same time, if his guilt plagued him this much, adding to it wouldn't help. So, for the longest time, I sat there in silence. A "default response" wasn't an option this time, as much as I wished it was. I had to decide on something, anything, but one thing was certain: accusations would get me nowhere.

"Your visions must be frightening," I said, "like some of mine, born out of guilt. I have also seen the grayed area between life and death. It's a terrifying place."

He avoided eye contact, replying, "That it is."

The entire time before, I feared that he was lying to take advantage of my pity. That fear dissolved bit by bit as his gold coating faded away, leaving nothing but rusted iron. This was no man searching for pity. It was a worn and broken man facing one too many storms.

"I promise I won't tell anyone unless you ask me to."

"You say this to the dirty old man who took advantage of your compromised state to gain your trust as means to…"

"I say this to the man who saved my life, to the man who stood by my side as I fought my demons for the very first time. Does it really matter your motives?" That was one of the few times in my life that I raised my voice. The sound was so unfamiliar that it startled me.

"It's so much more complicated, and you know that. Perhaps it doesn't matter that I used said events to gain your trust. It still stands that I manipulated you."

"There is such a thing as free will, Martin. Are you so convinced that I have none?"

"Your presence indicates a fatal lapse in judgment."

"Then you'll have to forgive me for my indiscretion."


	7. Once-Bitten Fruit

_You have been warned about the terrible writing. Forgive me._

That cocky smile returned again, the exact one I'm sure he's used on many others. He knew exactly how to make me melt, the bastard. It was the last thing I saw before he extinguished the only candle lighting the room.

I felt his hand move up my thigh, and with that, knew exactly where he was planning to take this. Without even a window in the room, I couldn't see anything. His voice made me jump when he whispered in my ear, "You're forgiven." Shortly thereafter, he proceeded to devour my lips once more, a firm grip on the bodice sending me to the ground with my heart racing. A moment didn't pass before he began to unlace my dress.

"What number am I?" I asked, giggling, noting just how effortlessly he undid the lacing on my dress.

He let out an uncomfortable laugh before replying, "It's bad enough that you had to ask, but the worst part is… I lost count. I was drunk out of my wits for a good portion of it."

The front of my dress was splayed open not much later; my lack of calm through this unsurprising to me. My suspicion didn't seem to stop me last time. Then again, one should be more willing to trust a man who admits to his crimes, even if they were many. I was well aware that I was just another maid he played, another girl he swooped in to save, so replaceable that he won't remember me as my name or even a number. It was no use either way, though. My ability to save my purity was long gone. I should only thankful that there was someone who would consider a once-bitten fruit cast from the tree.

Even as I gave my eyes time to adjust to the level of light, I couldn't even see inches in front of my face. I grew self-conscious as I started to wonder why he darkened the room. So many reasons entered my mind at once: he didn't want to see my face, he wanted to pretend that I was someone else, or maybe he wanted to hurt me while nobody could see. Scary monsters lived in the dark; vicious people lived in the dark; twisted fathers attacked in the dark. Fear turned my body into stone.

I had no idea how much time passed before I heard him ask if I was alright. No response came to my mind, which added to the nervousness. I knew that telling him of my fear of ill intentions would never be appropriate. He proceeded to move aside and ask me if he was making me uncomfortable. I couldn't tell if it was proof of sincerity or an attempt to lull me into a false sense of security. My silence wasn't going to go over well, but I couldn't describe my thoughts to myself, let alone others. More time passed. My jaw was locked into place. Light returned to the room, and as it did, I looked to the floor, whispering, "I'm sorry I am such a mess. You really should find another."

His warmth graced my side once more. I couldn't look at him, even though I desperately wanted to. Bringing my knees to my chest, I realized just what I had done. Tears filled my eyes. I failed him.

"You are no more than I am, please, do not apologize. I should have been gentler with you. I must be your first, given what you have told me," he said, being careful to avoid physical contact.

"Second." Upon speaking, I realized how cold I sounded.

"No sane man would count that, regardless of what he did to you."

He knew how to prey on the scared little girl so well. Oh, how his gentle words made me want to fall into his arms and let him take me. The big, strong knight would protect me from my father, replacing my fear with love, chasing away my nightmares and visions. I wanted to believe the lie. I wanted to appease the one inside of me who still read fairy tales and bought childish dresses. I honestly could not tell; if I was given one night under the illusion of love, what would happen? How soon would I be replaced? I knew that the moment I asked him, there would be a reasonable chance that he would lie, conjuring something about how I was so different than them, how he had finally found love. For just one more night, I decided to believe every word, pretending that I was more than a glorified whore the emperor hides from the public eye.

"You've been quiet tonight," he noted.

"I've run out of words, and I can't seem to make any more. I can't even make empty ones."

"I figured. Do realize that I am neither angry nor offended. The blame is mine to bear. It's just..." he sighed heavily, "I forget too often how young you are and I know that I am a villain for wanting you so."

A thousand bits of nerve entered me at exactly the wrong time.

"What makes me any different than those countless others?"

He chuckled, which surprised me. "A lot has changed since then, but you're probably not convinced by that after how I've acted. If it means anything at all, know that I could spend the rest of my nights like this, even if you never let me touch you again."

My suspicion continued to crumble, realizing that it was unlikely that anyone would have the patience to make a scheme this elaborate. Finally, the logical self gave way, leaving what my heart was screaming the entire time: a moment's joy this deep was worth a month of despair. I slumped onto his shoulder and clutched him, still devoid of words. I hoped my actions spoke where I could not. Perhaps my trust was misplaced, perhaps it wasn't, but nothing in this world made sense anymore, so I eventually stopped trying to make sense of it.

"I still don't understand why you're still here," he said, hesitating before bringing me closer, "Why spend your evenings with a jaded old man?"

My worries abandoned, I spoke my mind. "I have my reasons. Given how many times you've mentioned your age, you're clearly afraid of growing old."

"No, it isn't fear that you see; it is recognition of fact. Perhaps my appearance is gone, but I prefer the wisdom I have gained."

I nudged him playfully. "Believe me when I say that it is far from gone."

He smirked and told me I was delusional. After I returned with a light kiss, it was clear that, even with every doubt I still had in my mind, I desired him. I yearned for his touch more and more with the passing of each second, and anyone could see it: I was slain and slowly growing desperate. My lips grazed his neck, every fiber of my being begging for him to lose control. He turned to me slowly, eyes widened, answering my silent cries. A tug removed the ribbons restraining my hair as I knelt over him, "accidentally" allowing him a glimpse down my dress. His jaw was clenched visibly, as I hoped. I fully intended to unleash the beast he so despised.

"So willing?" he whispered, "My morality dies when you indulge me like this." My hand brushed momentarily against his hardening member. No time passed before our lips met once more; with that, the fearful thoughts were reduced to whispers. The monsters in the wardrobe were rendered harmless with the lighting of the candle, finally allowing for a restful night's sleep.

"You needn't feel obligated to grant me your attention," he said, returning a lock of hair behind my shoulders.

"Is it so hard to believe how desperately I need yours?" I asked him in return.

"Indeed it is."

"Perhaps it is time we stop questioning the other's motives."

I almost jumped when he grabbed my hips, bringing me on top of his lap. I could feel him throbbing against me as he firmly pulled my hips into his. It was clear that his noble intentions were giving way, being replaced with passion and greed. Hands explored my body. Distracted by the near-burning sensation between my legs, the ties on my dress became "somehow" loosened. Shoulder bared themselves first, then my chest, then the remainder, leaving me only in my slip, exposed. I swore I would never be seen like that again, but he was far from predatory in nature, instead, holding me as a prized possession. That was what it was supposed to feel like.

He knew what I wanted the moment I playfully tugged his robes, evoking a look of disbelief. To make the message clear, I tugged a few more times. Gently moving my hands to his waist, he whispered in my ear, "No, sweetheart, _this _is how you disrobe a man."

As if I didn't know. He treated me like this virginal piece of glass when he knew well that I was not. I flailed in attempt to erase the tear before he saw it, but that didn't matter. It was obvious. The depraved things I was forced through were countless, yet he insisted to lead me like some innocent, untouched thing. Perhaps it was wishful thinking on his part. I knew it was wishful thinking on mine.

Regardless, the removal of his belt sent my heart racing. He kept insisting that his appearances were long gone, but anyone with eyes would beg to differ. Having eyes, I frantically brought his robes to the floor, leaning forward to lock lips once again. The desire burned so painfully as, one by one, my dreams came true. Without thinking, I found myself rubbing against him, shuddering as I felt his hardness beneath me. A nearly silent moan signaled his dissolving restraint. Both of his hands slowly moved up my thighs until he grasped the bottom of my underdress. In a tone muted even by his standards, he asked, "May I have the privilege?"

"Please do."

Whatever was left of his self-control snapped moments later as he stripped me of my underdress and pushed me onto his bed. Words cannot describe the ferocity of his motions as he prepared to place his claim. Without delay, he threw himself upon me, ravenously devouring my lips with his fingers thoroughly entwined in my hair. I could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he yanked my head back, proceeding to run his tongue over a nipple. The anticipation was agonizing. With my thighs spread as far as they went, his teasing was brutal. I needed a release. The next few moments felt like an eternity, but, finally, our eyes met and he remarked, "You _tell _me if you become afraid."

His gaze did not stray as he penetrated me for the first time, even as he slammed me into the headboard. I let out a yelp in surprise. A finger pressed against my lips, without a single word, reminding me that getting caught would be fatal for both of us. As sick as it was, given there would be no permanent consequences, I would have loved to be caught in the Emperor's bed. Alas, his reputation would be ruined (and not just in his hometown) so I attempted the impossible: keeping silent while being gloriously defaced by the man of my dreams.

Gritting his teeth, he continued as he was, thrusting with bestial passion, gripping ever harder. I could look him in the eye, unafraid, without begging the Gods for it to end, and it was beautiful. Being enjoyed instead of destroyed, my fears were far gone. My vision blurred and my surroundings disappeared; everything was alright. I was smiling like a fool.

He threw his arms under my thighs, leaning forward and driving deeper. Pinned down and pounded ruthlessly, hardly capable of movement, all I could do was experience the beast that I set free; oh, what a beast I set free! There was no containing it, so, between heavy breaths, I moaned softly. That only provoked him further as he commented with a smirk, "It appears your voice isn't what will get us caught."

I didn't know what he meant until I realized the bed was creaking slightly, more so as time passed. My cares were long gone. Everything in the world was gone. Clearly, his judgment was gone. Feigning a voice of reason, I responded with, "If that is so, shouldn't you let up so the people below us aren't suspicious?"

"Never."

With that, he sent me gasping as he quickened, rather audibly indicating his sins to the people below. The fear of being discovered was more exciting than unpleasant, which surprised me. Teeth sunk into my shoulder as even _his _skillful silence began to give. Deep vociferations emanated as he was forced to dig them farther. He only let up for a moment to ask, fighting for breath, "Please let me mark you as my own."

All I could manage was a nod. So many questions crossed my mind, but none of them were going to be granted an answer right then. The only thing being granted was the instant gratification I so desired, and it was approaching fast. My shoulder was bitten once more as we drew near, his composure continuing to slip. Mine slipped the moment I felt him pulsating beneath me, and disappeared when he roared into my skin at climax. There was absolutely nothing discreet about my cries of ecstasy. All I could do then was hope that those below us slept more soundly than hibernating bears.


	8. Truth

_Just a gentle reminder that I am, indeed, still alive. Thank you for the positive feedback._

He slumped to my side shortly after, both of us slightly in a daze after what had happened. Speechlessness stopped being quite as terrifying as we grew more comfortable with one another. I finally convinced myself that no drunken man would grab me by the neck and demand that I respond to him. As more time passed, I started suspecting that I wouldn't be asked to leave the moment my usage expired, then, I started wondering exactly what my usage was.

Suddenly ashamed of my lack of clothing, I covered myself with the first blanket I could find. My face flushed red as I realized that even my slip was beyond my grasp. Obscuring everything up to parts of my face would have to do. He smiled as his gaze met mine once more.

"Your innocence is an invaluable gift, undeserving as I am."

"You know well that I have less than none, and you are misguided or even deluded to think otherwise." I raised my voice more than I should have, taking both of us by surprise. A few weeks ago, I would have been ashamed of collapsing in front of him like this. I have long since stopped caring, for there was nothing left to hide, nothing left to ruin; I was broken, neurotic, downright insane. At least the others were still under the proper illusion.

"I have seen plenty, and my senses don't fail me. Perhaps you haven't shown me everything, but I am aware enough." He moved closer to me, his voice hushed, continuing, "Any man can steal. I did not."

Oh, the strings he could pull, the words he could call forth. I couldn't help but wonder how many times he used that line, how many scared little girls he made clean. It was all such a beautiful lie, one that never failed to make my heart race, one that I was choosing to believe. All I had left was a whisper to thank him and the growing desire to obtain my dress. As said desire outweighed my fear of embarrassment, I snatched my clothing off of the floor, apologizing as I did, not having to explain myself. A lovely sense of security overcame me when I finally re-laced my dress. I noticed that he had regained his robes by the time I returned to his side, probably in response to my sudden move for mine. Clutching him, I closed my eyes, feeling surprisingly safe beside a man twice my age whom I barely knew.

With a light kiss to the forehead, he whispered, "It would be lovely, but I don't think I could talk our way out of another one. You should return to your chambers before the sun rises."

"Jauffre knows about my visions and voices. Tell him it was an exorcism. He and the other monks have tried and failed multiple rituals already, so they would believe it easily." I sounded more desperate than I wanted him to know.

"If asked, that will be perfect, but you know as well as I do that suspicion will rise if you are found in my room come morning."

"What if I left before sunrise?" I was definitely sounding too desperate. If I started sounding clingy, my consequences would outweigh my uses and he would never "ask for a drink" again. My only hopes were that I was hiding my apprehension better than I hid my desperation.

His countenance darkened, causing my jaw to tighten as I prepared for the worst. "You must understand that the risk is too great. As a priest, my vows are void; as an emperor, my reputation is lost with your presence," he said, my gaze shifting away as he continued. Dread boiled, for I knew this was going to happen. "As a man, however, as I am, you are my brightness in these dark times. Remember this in the following days, especially if I seem unduly formal or cold. My feelings are the same, regardless of my station."

His fingers made their way through my hair as I buried my face farther into his chest. It was such a perfect and beautiful lie. My efforts to convince myself of his deception failed for the last time; no longer did I think of the hundreds of others convinced of his undying affection. Continuing as I had before, I stopped trying to understand this strange world, instead, I fell into his arms without looking back. It was a wonderful, wonderful place. "I know we have lives to face come tommorrow, but I can't find it in me to leave," I said, deciding that he wouldn't discard me like I suspected.

"That we do," he sighed, "Tomorrow, I need all the answers and you need your flawless composure. The worst part is that nobody expects a single crack in either of us, even in a time like this."

"Mine were apparent rather quickly. What is this composure you speak of?"

"I could say the same to you."

"But you took the empire on your shoulders! All I have is the alphabetization of the library. You act as if they are the same thing."

"We are all in this together, and this includes you. The Blades offer me guidance and kinship of incalculable worth, yes, but you have granted me the freedom from sleepless nights. You would be surprised how lonely it is as a Septim. I know I was."

"Believe me, it isn't difficult to provide." A few moments passed in silence. I only wished it would have been an eternity.

"I would likely stall until the sun rises, but you and I both know the consequences of that. We should part while the others are still asleep. If you could, though, pass by me tomorrow morning when the crowd dies down. There is much for me to do, and the recent trouble in Bruma reminds me of what little time I have. Your company would be well appreciated, even if a courtly air has to be maintained."

My heart fluttered, likely palpable by the one next to me. It would take a thousand affirmations to convince me that I was more than a mere opiate or plaything to him, but even if I were just a form of escapism for him, I knew that I would return without a second thought. That probably said a number of bad things about me, but I was past the point of caring. I craved his attention, and that was that. I clutched him tighter still for a second before reluctantly moving toward the door. I was met with a smile upon looking back. It was clear that I wanted to leave about as much as he did. The walk to my chambers was a long one, a harsh reminder that I had to deny any closeness in the public eye. At least I didn't have to deny my feelings to him, I kept telling myself. It was that alone that brought me such joy.

I would be ashamed if anyone caught me holding a blanket in his stead. Regardless, I slept that night dreaming of the next time we would meet. Thousands of thoughts passed through my mind, but I was finished asking questions. I was through with my doubts. He had all the power in the world to destroy me, for he had my trust. He knew my weaknesses and met all my demons. The ones who cut the deepest are the ones who know you best, hence the scars my father leftmy weaknesses and met all my demons. The ones who cut the deepest are the ones who know you best, hence the scars my father left. What kept my fear at bay was the fact that I knew his demons, too. I could almost feel his heartbeat as I drifted off to sleep.

Like a little girl on her birthday, I was thrilled to try on my new dress. I was aware of how juvenile I acted, indiscriminately chasing after the Emperor and treating new clothing as the highlight of my day. Awareness changed nothing. I did my hair back with ribbons and wore my pretty little dress, shopkeeper be damned. All be damned. I was likely to regret all of this come old age. Then again, I had my doubts that anyone would make it to old age with the recent happenings the others described. Yawning and definitely feeling the sleep deprivation, I made my way to the kitchen, proceeding as if last night was just another night spent gathering flowers and reading my texts.

Nobody was awake save for a guard (probably Cyrus) which always relieved me, even if I wasn't hiding from anyone. Scurrying to the kitchen, I started my day's duties, hoping that it wasn't as late as I feared it would be. Feeling ambitious, I rolled out some dough for some sweet pastries, all the while creating some fruit filling for them. Between the ambitious breakfast and my slightly-too-formal appearance, I worried that someone would somehow come to the conclusion that I was attempting to impress someone specific, someone who has recently started living here... no. I would write it off as an attempt to do my job diligently, considering the ongoing events I had heard so much about. If asked, Martin so nobly performed an exorcism upon finding me plagued by visions. We even coordinated that one. His secret was safe. Our secrets were safe.

People started to stir about when the pastries were beginning to brown. Proceeding as usual without a single suspicious look out the kitchen prove more difficult than I thought, but I managed to stay focused on my work. My timing was a little early, serving before many had moved toward the front room. The bell was given a hard ring in hopes that it would permeate the stone walls, hoping moreso that other things did not. Thankfully everyone made their way to the table, Martin, unsurprisingly, making his way in last. He clearly was roused only recently. I served the plates one by one, noticing how weary the inhabitants had become as things have progressed. Because of this, I no longer worried about my sleep-deprived face. Noting the absence of scornful looks sent my way, I breathed a sigh of relief. It was likely nobody knew, or at least nobody cared. I hoped dearly for the former. One last test.

"I know tensions are high and everyone is busy, so let me know if there is something I can do to make things easier."

Calling attention. This would insure the absence of scornful looks, especially if they had hidden suspicions. Even if silently, I would know if that would prompt a "looks like someone has been providing plenty of help already" if such a thing was present in their minds. I was being so silly, so blatantly paranoid. Looking out to the others, no such looks were present. The only thing present was the large Nord man, hardly fitting at the end with a chair he pulled from the other room. The handful of additional servings ended up being a fortunate miscalculation. He laughed heartily when I offered him two servings, sarcastically congratulating me for my astute observation. Regardless, he took the two I offered. The laughter that erupted reminded me of a different time, a bittersweet experience.

They kept referring to this hulk of a man as a hero, which was almost humorously akin to his appearance. It was him that I envisioned, wearing armor to the table, with a deep, booming voice, when reading about the hero in Uriel's book. I didn't think such a man actually existed. I wanted to thank him personally for bringing Martin here safely, not to mention what he did for the others in Kvatch, but with all the talking, I didn't have the chance. With all the talking, I shrunk into invisibility, finally leaving to clean up without a word. Martin shot me a quick glance, silently reassuring me that I wasn't completely useless. I wished I believed him.

After breakfast, I was taken aside by the Grandmaster; my fear barely concealed by a stone face. I asked him what he required.

"With the trouble down in Bruma, it is no longer safe for you to go to the market. That duty will be carried out by one of the Blades now. I am terribly sorry; I know that was something you enjoyed, so when this is resolved, that duty can become yours again."

A thousand sighs of relief created a divine choir. I only hoped that this wouldn't happen every time I was approached for the rest of my days. I responded honestly, realizing that deception wasn't going to be necessary, "May I still gather plants and caps for my potions?"

"Bring a dagger and stay near the temple, otherwise, go ahead."

He left after that, which prompted me to bolt out back to gather the linens and flowers. I was terrible at hiding my fear and paranoia, which made me certain that the other Blades saw me as I am: pathologically neurotic. This saddened me, especially since I lost touch with the others without Renault nudging me toward extroversion. None of this mattered when I was out in my sanctuary behind the temple. I spent my day gathering flowers and performing my duties, sampling some of the fennel seeds to make up for lost energy.

Upon returning the linens to their respective places, I stopped for a minute before neatly folding and placing Martin's by his door. Memories of the previous night made themselves present once again, reminding me of what he requested. For some reason, I was afraid of honoring his request, as much as I wanted to. Paranoia, as much as I wanted to deny it, still had free reign in my mind. The moment I temporarily spoke to him in passing, I feared everyone would know, ruining his reputation as an emperor before his reign officially began. I was able to calm these nerves by convincing myself that by my logic, the Grandmaster would be framed as his extramarital lover for advising him as he has been. After folding and sorting the rest of the linens, I went to return to the great hall, accidentally stumbling upon a conversation before opening the door. I heard Martin speaking with Jauffre, which made my stomach turn. This time, my fears were closer to reality.

"What are you inferring, Jauffre?"

"I am telling you to be cautious, nothing else. We were all thankful that you were able to help her, your talents impressed us all, but she is a melancholy with a nervous condition. She has been able to live a peaceful life here, tending to the temple, but we must keep a close watch to insure she does not harm herself or others. I only wish I told you about her sooner. Anyone other than you wouldn't have handled that half as well."

"Thank you, but I do not understand. If she has these conditions, why is she in our care?"

"I choose not to include details, but she was found hiding in the undercroft at the priory. Returning her to her place of origin was...not an option. When she came of age, we determined that she is unfit to live safely on her own. Uriel insisted she stay here, and so it was."

"I see."

"I know this is a lot for you to deal with all at once. I personally apologize for whatever she has caused you."

I couldn't listen to any more. Before the conversation ended, I ran to my room, never wanting to be seen by anyone again. It was a combination of shame and betrayal that overcame me. I thought I was at least ignored, not tolerated as a nuisance, kept out of pity. The worst part is that it is clear that Jauffre knew where the injuries truly came from. Clearly he didn't know of everything, but one of the paranoid voices ended up being right: everyone knew of my insanity, and nobody wanted to deal with it. I was a pest. I wept, wondering if I would have the gall to face Martin after what I heard. Pulling myself together took a bit longer than expected, but I decided to continue my duties out of spite. I still wasn't sure I wanted to face Martin, though.

By the time I made my way back to my duties, I realized that dinner should be my next priority. Since I didn't go to the market, I didn't know what I had to work with. Making my way through the pantry and workspace, I found some pheasants, rice, and vegetables. There was only so much I could do with that, but Jauffre's words still rung painfully loud in my mind. I made the meal as beautifully as I could, rubbing herbs into the pheasant meat before cooking it gently over the fire. If they were going to rue my presence, let them rue it. I only hoped Martin didn't feel that way.

The bell rang loudly, but slightly less so than the morning's bell. My decision to make more than usual was a wise one, with that, I wondered if the Nord would stay around permanently. Boisterous as he was, I noticed the life he brought back to us, and I appreciated it. I gave him two servings without asking, which prompted his laughter once more as he loudly commented on what a fast learner I was. I took the compliment, disregarding how tongue-in-cheek it may have been. I doubted the man had the capacity for deception, anyway. I bow, thank him, and quietly assume my place by Martin's side. There was no looking at him. I couldn't do it. So, I assumed my natural state, chin to chest, eating my supper, listening to the anxious speech around me.

They spoke of an attack on Bruma, with daedra spewing out of a mythical gate near the city. A lot of things made sense to me after these conversations, such as the monster I encountered and why Jauffre suddenly changed a significant part of my duties. What I didn't understand was why they were sending only the Nord to help the guard. If what they were describing before was as desolate as it sounded, it must have been more than a one man job. Then again, I was no general. Perhaps this was part of a bigger plan. I had no reason to criticize.

The meal could not have ended soon enough. The moment people started to dissipate, I made a run for the kitchen to clean the dishes. Martin must have thought that I had regrets of the previous night, which worried me. The dishes were done quickly, with that, I peered over the corner into the great hall to see if there was a crowd. After the conversations I heard earlier, it was unsurprising that a few people were gathered around Martin with that strange book he was so engrossed in. It amused me that yet another desk was pulled to where he sat to hold all of the books he was pouring through, the pile growing with each day.

My only option was to check the potions and alphabetize the library, both of which were in disarray to the point it frightened me. The healing potions were disappearing like mad and someone didn't put the books back in order... it looked like I had flax seeds to clean and flowers to concentrate that night. I didn't mind, though, for I gained a certain peace from restocking those shelves. I carried the equipment to my chambers as an excuse to check the crowds, which thankfully grew thin as time passed. To better create the potions I required, I dropped by the kitchen to acquire the last of the ingredients and some water. The crowd was gone. No more stalling could happen.

Gritting my teeth, I approached him as a misbehaving child caught in the act. I wasn't even sure what I was afraid of, but it tore into me deeply. My default falsified smile brought me deep comfort as I casually walked past him. I could see how the day wore on him; it was like five years passed since the previous night. A bow followed some carefully chosen words.

"M'lord," I asked, voice hardly shaking, "May I offer food or drink? It appears that today has been difficult for you."

He treated me as any other, thanking me kindly, requesting some brandy. After I brought him some, I saw his eyes trace the great hall, both of us noticing that it was vacant. With one more suspecting glance behind him, his voice dropped an octave, saying, "Finally, a moment of silence."

"I should leave you to your work, sire. It appears that nobody else has." All I received was a smile and a nod. Even with a few shallow words in passing, I could still feel the same warmth I felt in his arms. Perhaps I wasn't a pest to everyone, or at least not to him.

I bid him farewell, moving again to my chambers, this time less upset than before. As I walked away, I heard a voice even more hushed than before, startling me visibly. I have always been startled by sudden noises...

"You look beautiful."

I could feel my face turn bright red, and it was clear that he could see it, too; he could see how I longed for his attention again. I didn't know whether I should thank him or if that would raise too much suspicion. Finally, I decided to thank him silently with a curtsy, which made his composure slip more than I thought it would. I left shortly thereafter, the last thing I saw being a bitten lower lip obscured poorly by one of his texts.

That expression didn't leave me while I crushed the flowers like I have so many times in the past, then boiling them under a small flame until it cooked into a usable paste. Dilute, dissolve, extract, purify, repeat. Closing my eyes, I could almost see grandmother's wiry hands guiding my childish paws as I sprinkled the crushed flowers into the apparatus. How I wished to return to High Rock, back when it was just grandmother, mother, and me, before she met the nice-seeming man who became my father, before we moved to Chorrol, before she got so sick, before I had to run. Time spent learning alchemy and time magic with grandmother was time that I will always cherish. Sometimes I wondered if she was still alive. I had every reason to believe she was, even in her old age she was as young as I am now. Even with a carriage, though, I could never find her again. What would I tell him? "Take me to the sunny hill with the flowers and the tiny old lady?"

As I waited for the solution to cool and crystallize, I turned my attention to my fairy tale book once more, looking through to find the big Nord hero to laugh at the similarity. This man, too, came to the table in his far-from-pristine armor and sheathed weapon. I could hardly believe it. That story had less of the binding broken, which goes to show the one I spent so much time reading. Laughing quietly, a bit ashamed of myself, I returned the book to the shelf and reached for my newest alchemy text, the book I would much rather be caught with, especially since it focused on northern flora. I was still getting used to the plants in these mountains. Of course I spent quite a bit of time here, but I was taught with the flowers on my grandmother's hill. I gained my frantic mastery in the forests of Chorrol.

Time passed, bringing me a handful of distillations of which I was quite proud. A new technique gave me a higher yield, too; wasting less was always the goal, Grandmother said. The naturally-found catalysts mentioned in the book also fascinated me, so I took out my field notebook and jotted down some names and descriptions. The one thing I would love to investigate is a way to save some time...

Closing the journal, I lay on my bedroll with my text, delving into the most recent methods of creating the more potent of the potions. I was always great at maintaining purity, but combined effects never turned out right when I made them. Guilt was kept away about my mother's death when I realized that even the seasoned masters of alchemy and healing could not save her. Even so, every toxin-purging potion I found made me wonder if that was the one that would have saved her, the one that I failed to provide. These thoughts grew quieter with time, but they still remained. Tonight, they remained. Unfortunately, my eyelids began to droop before I finished the chapter. In resignation, I marked my place in my text and gathered the apparatus to return to the li-

A knock. It startled me, enough that I almost dropped the alembic. I was aware of how late it was, probably underestimating how late it was after I worked to restock the potions. Feeling a bit nervous about answering a knock this late, I approached the door cautiously. Upon opening, I was no longer surprised about the person in my doorway.

Martin's eyes were glazed over, his face defeated. My heart ran a thousand miles away the moment I picked up the scent. That scent. The smell I had learned to fear, the one that brought me such pain that I block out the memories and thoughts...

"I can smell it on your breath," I said bitterly, stepping back after I opened the door, "What are you here for?"

Before I made a run for my dagger, he convinced me that it wasn't immediately necessary.

"Your company, that is all." He wasn't completely gone, but his muted tone and slurred words were still noticeably present, as was my fear.

I invited him to sit next to me on the floor, my room only boasting a bedroll and a single chair. Able to fetch my dagger nonchalantly from the desk, just in case, I watched as his disrupted steps made their way to what was, essentially, my bed.

"I thought I would never be seen like this again," he said, giving me the consideration to sit farther away, "I thought I wasn't that fool anymore."

Attention was then drawn to my hand, shaking slightly as I held my half-unsheathed dagger nearby. The moment he noticed, I dropped it, as if that would look like I wasn't holding it. His gaze shifted downward, causing me to flinch. I did it. I made him mad. A sigh was audible, driving me back into the corner. Silence fell. I turned away, cowering, simultaneously realizing that I was desperately trying to protect myself from one of the gentlest people I knew.

"Even with my clouded judgment, I would not hurt you. I would, however... forget just how similar this is to the horrible things you showed me. For that, I am very sorry."

I was convinced, and slightly ashamed of myself for doubting the one who proved himself so trustworthy. I apologized, my body still keeping speech impossible, then realizing just how terrible I must have made him feel, especially considering the palpable self-hatred before any of this. I let go of the sheath of my dagger, placing it a distance away from me.

"Those scars on your back," he continued, "I didn't see those before. It breaks my heart to see."

I just shook my head, words still absent from my abilities. My only hopes, now that humans were neither obstacles nor means to an end, were that I could provide what he needed. I would go as far as offering my body, almost specifically because he didn't ask for it. Perhaps that was his plan, I thought for a moment. I dismissed that thought soon after it appeared. I gave assisting him my best shot.

"So, uhm, the ongoing hostilities..."

His finger came to my lips. "I have been granted plenty of advisers, plenty of people to discuss the crises with, calling me "lord" and "sir." The leader has been well attended to. The son of a farmer, however..."

I was always a bit slow on the uptake with things such as this. Closing the space he so graciously gave me, I hesitated before taking his hand. Hardly a moment later, I ended up in his arms. I could have surrendered my body then and there, but even I knew there was a time and place for everything. He lazily scanned my chambers, chuckling upon noticing the disorganized pile of alchemy reagents, notes, texts, and apparatuses.

"Looks like I wasn't the only one up late working."

"If you could call it work. I call it a hobby. There just happens to be a demand."

"You still enjoy it after all that?"

"It took a long time to rediscover my love for it, but I learned to blame my father instead of the art... mostly. Sometimes. You know."

"I know."

A bitter smile spread across my mouth. This was not something I normally discussed, and verbalizing it just made it a little too real. I decided to redirect the conversation to something a bit more lighthearted. We both needed it.

"Have you practiced much alchemy?"

He shook his head. "No, not particularly. I have basic training from my time in the guild, but I must confess that I wasn't particularly diligent in those studies. However, I do know good work when I see it. I suspect the ones in the library are yours?"

I looked down for a moment, not expecting anyone to notice that unofficial part of my duties. I nodded, stifling giddy excitement. My mind deemed him an authority on the subject, commenting on the work of which I took the most pride. He saw right through me, transparent as I knew I was.

"Suddenly my surname changes, and my words carry five times the weight." I couldn't tell if he was amused or full of disdain, but it was likely that it was a bit of both. I said the only thing that came to mind.

"I take pride in my work and value your opinion, nothing more."

"I worry that you wouldn't have before Brother or Emperor was by my name."

It would be easy to insist that wasn't the case, but I knew he would not believe me. I started to wonder if he thought I craved his attention for only his authority's sake. His lack of trust wounded me, then again, I was so ready to attack him just moments ago. I wouldn't think to sit next to him without a dagger by my side, next to the man who stood by me as I fought my demons, the man who saved my life! All I could think to do was embrace him, which was better than the "nothing" I usually provided. The scent of alcohol on his breath no longer bothered me, instead, I took comfort in his arms as he played with my hair.

He laughed suddenly, a gentle reminder that he was a bit compromised, saying, "I am convinced you only want my power and you probably believe you are but a whore for my amusement. By the gods, I don't even know anymore."

It finally came to me. "Just as much as I adore the man who took up his sword with a moment's notice, I adore the drunken mess beside me. Go ahead and call me a liar, if you wish. My story isn't changing."

His grip on me tightened significantly, indicative that I actually did it right for once. The truth was surprisingly easy to convey. After years of depending on lies and deception, the truth felt almost unnatural to me, which often led to lies told without the intention to lie. It sickened me that my safe, default state was one of canned words and gestures taken from a checklist. His years touring bars and granting hope to the ailing (what a combination) rendered him able to see past the formalities, likely why he hated them so.

"A sweet little Breton girl fond of my inebriated self? Now I only wait to awaken on the floor by my bed."

My lips met his cheek before I asked him, coyly, "Promise you'll stay awhile, first?"

He sighed heavily. "It was arrogant of me to think I am any different than I was twenty years ago. Here I am, once more, in the room of a girl I've only recently met, barely sober enough to remember by tomorrow."

"I adore that man, too."


	9. Someday

I am definitely unconscious on the floor somewhere." He laughed, turning toward me with a sudden change in expression. I liked where this was going. "Might as well enjoy it while it lasts."

I was initially worried about the lack of a lock on my door, but that went away quickly when he touched me as he had before. There was something so perfect about being alone with him after having to feign the air of an aquaintance for such a long day. Something beautiful happened when we were alone, finally alone, the mask strings cut and the social classes erased. All was wrong about the time we spent, and the moment anyone saw us, we would both be ruined. None of that mattered the moment he ran his hands over me, a feeling so familiar, regardless of how recently we may have met. I knew him before he met, long before, but I didn't know how. I didn't know why. I only knew of the broken binding and worn-through pages that barely read the original words.

Even after a thousand nights with him, shivers would still erupt within me the moment our lips met. No self-respecting woman is supposed to involve herself with a former libertine, they say. He is nothing but an abuser and a criminal, I was told. He will disappear the second he is done with you, the entire world shouts, and he will pull every string in his grasp to convince you otherwise. I hated that I almost believed them. The only thing I truly noticed from his supposed past was the perfect touch, one that could turn the most chaste priestess into a whore for the night. Perhaps I enjoyed falling victim to his cunning ways and domineering passion, thinly veiled by his meek demeanor. Choosing to fall victim was the best part in its own way.

What started as slow and affectionate escalated bit by bit, his grip on my dress tightening so gradually, overshadowing me so ominously, pushing me into the corner as he always did. A dark curiosity arose within me as I wondered how rough he would get with me with his inhibitions dampened as they were. Remaining wary of the mixed messages I have repeatedly sent him, I encouraged his aggression. He caught on quickly, very quickly. With an air of smugness he probably hadn't assumed in a decade, he sat back for a moment, my dress still thoroughly in his grasp. Laughing softly, he mentioned how he corrupted me so, reminding me under his breath that I owed him nothing. It was my remark that let him know all he needed.

"Corrupted me? Looks like it's time to move on to one of your altar girls at Kvatch."

I barely contained a yelp as he yanked me toward him, bringing my face less than an inch from his. "You..." he growled with a menacing smirk, "You will pay dearly for that." With that, I was cornered.

It didn't take him long to find the ends lacing on the back of my dress, which he proceeded to undo without delay. Just to spite him, I attempted to wriggle free. This was returned with a rather firm hand at the base of my neck.

"Looks like we have a stubborn one," he said, effortlessly holding me in place despite my best efforts, "Let's see how long that lasts."

A bit of my feeble flailing wasn't doing much, save for derailing the "flimsy priest" stereotype and making us both laugh hysterically. The hours of work and tension were showing on both of us; it had been a long day. Snarky comments were made about the ridiculous number of layers I was wearing. None of this, however, did take his hand off my neck or stop clothes from mysteriously falling to my waist. His eyes widened as he undressed me more, much like a predator hungrily anticipates its prey. Motions became more desperate, before long, all my clothes were gone, my face was pressed against the stone floor, and an unwavering hand was woven into my hair. Struggling went from futile to near impossible. The flickering candle finally put itself out of its misery. The last thing I saw was a set of robes that somehow made it to the floor.

"Now, be a good girl and never insult my work again."

"Your work is brilliant, sire..."

"Thank you."

"...but you a twisted old man who takes pleasure in girls half your age."

His hand tightened into a fist, causing sharp pain on every point on my scalp. My face was becoming one with the floor beneath me and I began to whimper. Heavy breaths barely too close to me grew more foreboding with each passing moment, until he finally interrupted my near-silent cries. I flinched when a deep voice entered from lips just forward of my neck...

"I hear no complaints."

A sigh of relief escaped me as he finally released my hair from his clutches, only to be turned into a gasp as my hips were grabbed violently, striking his. It was easier to muffle my voice with the ground placed so conveniently before me. Reminding me of my place, he gently dug his nails into my sides, the first bit of mercy shown in a while. It was only a small bit, followed by carnal ferocity. I became his secret, his plaything, his catharsis, shamelessly beckoned at every ungodly hour he desired.

By then, I wanted my instant gratification, nothing staged, nothing slow; it appeared that the feeling was mutual. Exhausted from trying to best him in strength, I was reduced to the physicality of a rag doll, tossed about like a weightless entity while anchored between his hands. As the thrusts transitioned from passionate to violent, my attempts to resist far gone, I was required to bite down on my wrist to silence myself. We shared a wall with the barracks, after all. Discovery was suicide.

Likely enough to leave considerable marks, he dug into my sides harder, his breaths audible and indicating a great deal of restraint, though hardly being gentle on me. Ecstasy. Pure ecstasy. With a final thrust, he climaxed within me, moaning quietly as he did. Feeling a slight sting near my hips, I no longer wondered if some marks would remain by morning.

My attempts to light the lamp while blind were hilarious, but, of course, everything was hilarious at that hour. The dim light finally appeared and my world rematerialized, showing my room coated with hastily discarded clothing. So much for returning the alembic to the library. He must have thought me a madwoman with the mass of books and notes on my desk. Then again, he was no stranger to disorganized masses of books, and he already knew I was a madwoman. Jauffre's words didn't seem to discourage him too much. Even sooner than before, I made a run for my clothes. Hopefully he wouldn't mind. I turned to find my underdress.

"So soon?" he asked, laughing lightly.

I cringed. "I'm sorry. I just..." I had to make something up. "If we are going to get caught, it would be easier to talk past if my clothes were on."

"You can call me a twisted pervert all you wish, but don't lie to me."

"Oh, so the Grandmaster would just shrug it off?" I slipped my underdress over my shoulders.

Imitating Jauffre well enough to make me wonder how often he does it, "By mighty Talos, why would you do such a thing?"

Falling into his arms, giggling like a child, part of me wondered if he would remember this the following day. I never thought he had it in him. He handed me an underskirt, joking, "I think this one was next, but I cannot be sure."

After dressing, I returned to his side, unable to keep from clutching him for long. He didn't seem to mind, clingy and needy as I was. One would have thought that he, of all people, would be bothered by a woman who wouldn't let go after her usage expired, but he continued to surprise me.

"He's convinced that I am completely mad," I confessed, shaking my head. "As you know, he is probably right."

"So, you were there for that. I thought I heard footsteps behind that door."

"I knew what he was aware of, but to hear him say it, to hear him talk about me like that... I thought he would keep it a secret. Now, I wonder if everyone else is just humoring me out of pity."

"He was sounding like he was just concerned."

"I don't know why he needs to warn people about me like I am some sort of monster. I've never hurt any..."

I stopped there. He didn't need to know about that. To think I almost did it again... He glanced at the dagger on the other side of the room, then turned to me. It wasn't a look of fear, of anger, or pity, but I was still rendered uneasy. A smile then crept onto his lips.

"Did the job for me? The man had it coming."

I reeled back slightly at the comment, not sure if I was more shocked by his knowledge or his attitudes. Years of hearing about everyone's problems must have desensitized him, as evidenced by his matter-of-fact demeanor. Or, of course, he was worried about provoking a madwoman. Then again, I wouldn't be much of a challenge to him. I dreaded he would politely excuse himself and never come back, but these suspicions became less frequent with time...

"I don't think I killed him," I muttered, "I just made very certain he couldn't catch me. It doesn't matter. Be he living or dead, I am never returning to Chorrol."

"I might have to pay a visit." He winked. I wondered if I should alert someone of the dwindling supply of spirits.

The disarray on my desk finally bothered me enough to send me a few steps to the other side of the room. Books needed to be placed in their proper order. My notes needed to be moved to the upper-right side of the desk, the pen to my left, the potions and apparatuses on the floor by the door, but not too much for fear of breaking them.

It didn't take too long to finish. No comment was made when I sat down once more. I was guessing that any "Alice is a whackjob" jokes would be considered in poor taste, thankfully. Too many were made during my lessons at the temple as is. Thus, I defaulted again to clinging to him. He didn't seem to mind. Unfortunately, keeping my eyes open was becoming quite a feat.

"I don't know what time it is," I mumbled, half asleep, "but I know it's late."

Without letting go, he replied, "You need your sleep."

"...and you don't?"

"I told you, I am unconscious somewhere, hopefully out of sight."

"You don't actually believe that, do you?"

"It's harder to believe the contrary."

I flopped on my back, taking him with me. We were both exhausted. After several minutes spent in a daze, my face buried into his shoulder, he asked, "What do you even see in me?"

I lazily attempted eye contact, returning with, "It doesn't matter."

My breaths slowed, the world blurred, and everything was perfect. The dreaded end finally approached when he told me, "I think I need some sleep, too."

"I wish you didn't have to go."

"In the fullness of time, I won't. Until then..." He kissed me tenderly, pulling a blanket over my shoulders. "...stop by tomorrow, if you would."

A smile and nod bid him farewell. Only when I heard the door shut did I let my eyes widen. I knew I was drawing conclusions and he was intoxicated, but I wanted to believe it sorely. So, I did.


	10. Sconces

I woke up to a knock on my door, the sun shining in my eyes. I was late. Answering the door, Caroline asked if I was ill. It was time for a half-truth.

"I got rather engrossed in restocking the potions last night and didn't get to bed until extremely late." I picked up the neat stack of potions and equipment, then asked, "Do you have the time to help me return these to the library? I am so sorry for oversleeping."

She followed me to the library, potions in hand, reassuring me that there was still time to make breakfast, even offering to help prepare it. A wave of emotions went through me. Captain Renault. I missed her so much. Tears gathered in my eyes, making me curse my excessive reactions. It was behaviors like that which made me worry that everyone thinks I am crazy like Jauffre does. After carefully arranging the glassware how it must be, my hands remained on the shelf a few moments too long. The damned tears.

"Oh, it's not so bad. Some people aren't even awake yet, and you know how late the Emp-, well, Martin, is to rise. Nobody is angry."

"I think the current events have gotten to me a bit, that's all."

"You aren't the only one affected. Don't worry. Now, are you going to need some help?"

I politely declined, laughing to myself about the comment about Martin, realizing that his shifting schedule might have been my doing. Passing through the great hall again was relieving; only a few people were up. The Nord was polishing his weapon in the front, which elicited audible laughter from me. I didn't know people like him existed outside the stories and stereotypes about those barbarians up north. Before passing into the kitchen, I approached him, slightly intimidated. The man was more than a head above Martin.

"Sir, will you be joining us for breakfast?"

He smiled at me with his jagged teeth, booming, "Sir? Ye see a dirt-covered guy with a horned helmet and think to call 'im sir? Ha! Precious. Sure, if ye got food, I ain't gonna turn ye down. Just make a lot, I'm dyin' over here."

Smiles are contagious, so I couldn't help but return one. I felt awful for laughing at him, but he was so different from the incredibly reserved people I had been surrounded with my whole life. He wasn't the jovial but secretly sinister type like my father, no, he was earnest like he was caked with grime. I could respect that, and I was tired of withdrawing like I had for a while.

"Any requests? The food here must be so different from back home."

"I like yer fancy Imperial food. Just make some o' that."

As I walked to the kitchen, I wondered if he was playing up the stereotype to lighten the mood. Nobody could blame him. Since a little while before we lost Uriel, this place died. Since Martin was brought here, our world started dying. I tried to keep my thoughts away from that.

Breakfast was a bit improvised, between the ingredients being chosen by someone other than me and the lack of time, I had to get creative, and fast. As pathetic as it was, the experience was exhiliarating. I ended up with a hash-like substance, but at least it tasted good. Looking outside before ringing the bell, I silently celebrated when I realized that I made up for lost time.

Part of me wondered if Martin was awake yet. That question was answered quickly enough when everyone shuffled in for the morning meal. He was moving, of course, but I could tell he was a bit compromised from the way he walked. I doubted anyone else noticed, given people don't actively look for signs of crapulence in every person they encounter. Needless to say, I looked forward to meals. Even acting as a stranger, I loved being near him. He had his ways of addressing me as we were when others weren't looking, managing it once as he sat next to me, just a look, but it said everything that needed saying. I hoped my girlish infatuation wasn't showing to anyone but him, for he detected it instantly and went as far as feeling my thigh under the table.

Rousing speech continued about the problems outiside of Bruma, making it apparent that the crisis was far from over. The Nord seemed to be shouldering quite a bit of the action, which made me curious about what his capabilities were. If all the talk was true, he was a legendary one man army. It was becoming more and more apparent that the general procedure was to learn about the situation, then point at it and tell him to hit it until it stops moving.

The day proceeded as normal after the dishes were clean and the linens washed, but I then realized that it had been far too long since I tended to the armory. I cringed at how much dirt must have collected between the stone tiles. As I crossed over to make my way downstairs, I heard Martin call for me. In my best attempts to proceed as I would with any other person, I moved to the table that became unofficially his, piled with more volumes with each day.

"Alice?" he asked, so perfect at keeping his demeanor, "I have quite the headache. Would you be so kind and bring me a potion?"

I simply nodded and left as quickly as I came. He wasn't alone, so I kept the risks to a minimum. This didn't bother me too much, for every moment alone with him was worth the paranoia come daytime. One of the distillations from last night ended up being what was necessary. I picked the more potent one. He likely needed it. Since he seemed occupied, I simply bowed and left it next to him. I thought I would leave without another word, but the booming voice decided against that.

"Yer quite the tiny one! Where did they get ye?" He was definitely playing the accent up.

Putting my hands on my hips (and cringing slightly, someone definitely left more than a mark), I retorted, sticking my tongue out, "At the general store, where else?" I had to crane my neck just to see his face.

Even the more stoic types smiled. He the proceeded to put his hand on my head, saying, "I have weapons bigger'n ye."

"I don't doubt you. I often find myself mistaking you for a very loud tree." Captain Renault would have been proud.

Apparently Uriel had a good feeling about this man, originally an imprisoned criminal, trusting him with the amulet. Aside from being utterly obnoxious, I could see it. There was an amount of transparency about him absent from many others. It made me happy to see the others at least a little less lifeless, even if the laughter was at my expense. The armory needed some assistance, though. Fetching some water and a few rags from the back, my duties resumed, my surroundings a slightly happier place.

Nobody was practicing, so I was granted a bit of solitude that set my mind at ease. Especially around the practice dummy, some dirt had accumulated. Since I neglected the area more than I would have liked, cleaning everything properly took hours of energy I barely had. Every yawn and blurry morning was well worth its while, though, obsessed as I was with him. After I was done with the armory, I creeped up the stairs, peering through a crack into the great hall before entering. I tried not to get too excited about the lack of a crowd around Martin. I walked past him casually, taking the thoroughly emptied bottle with me. It was wise of me to give him the strongest one that I made. Trying to stifle my knowing laughter, I asked him if he needed another.

"I can attest to the potency of what you have already provided, thank you; my needs have been met." There were hints of a scowl on his face. He knew I was mocking him.

"Let me know if this changes."

Even short enounters like those brought me such joy. I only wished that I didn't have to maintain a detached demeanor with him, but it was the only way. This led me back to his comment the previous night, which kept moving to the forefront despite my best efforts. Though all logic would point to his lack of inhibition and reasoning due to intoxication, my heart would love to believe (and for the most part, did) that he intended some sort of "forever" in his implications. Maybe someday, I wouldn't have to so cautiously hide my feelings for him. That was horribly unlikely, though, but I did allow myself to dream. That wasn't the first unlikely thing I dreamt.

Dinner was quick and uneventful in its preparation, but terrifying upon its consumption. The conversations grew grim as I heard talk of _purposely _opening an Oblivion gate so near to where we were, shocking enought to avert my usual willful ignorance. Apparently, the Nord had collected some of the necessary components, and progress was being made. As the magnitude of the gate was described, I learned just how risky these measures were, how dangerous these times had truly become. Before, I ignored them, but the thoughts of our destruction horrified me. At least I had more knowledge. Even when I was less ignorant, though, there was little I could do to change the outcome of this crisis. Restocking potions and making dinner were hardly feats of heroism.

Regardless of how useless I knew I was, I proceeded to carry out my duties as diligently as possible, replacing the scrubbed-down dishes in their proper order, then going outside to search for some of those plants my book mentioned. As Jauffre advised, I took my dagger, hiding it neatly underneath my coat. Those wormwood leaves would surely increase my yield tenfold...

It was cold out, as expected, but also so wonderfully quiet. I wasn't surprised to see Jena walking the perimeter of the temple, for she and I had a lot in common; she likely needed the quiet as much as I did. It wasn't about gathering flowers or patrolling the temple, and we both knew that. My basket was still filled with plants by the end of the evening, definitely including wormwood in the collection to explore its ability to speed the processes I have spent too much time waiting for. After fitting the last leaf that would make it into my basket, I sat with my back against a tree and gazed at the stars.

The space next to me was too empty, and I required just a little more warmth than my coat provided. In my mind I saw him next to me, conversing with me about anything and everything as we held each other, the moon our only light. I could return to the temple, curtsy, and offer him a drink, or later, I coukd sneak to his quarters to spend a few hours without the mask of acquaintance. Time with him, though I treasured it, was not the only thing I wanted. Foolish as it was, I wanted Jena to laugh at us from a distance; I wanted the Nord to make jokes about us. Sighing, I looked over at the empty space again, noticing that Jena had just arrived there.

I stopped her on her way back. "The flowers are picked and the temple is well patrolled. Looks like it's another one of _those _nights."

She knelt down next to me, replying, "I can assure you that you have no reason to be afraid. Cloud Ruler is secure, and by courtesy, the Emperor's protection extends to you as well. As for me..."

"You worry that Martin's fate will be the same as Uriel's was," I said, looking to her, "Nobody has stopped talking of his death. Sometimes I wonder if my powerlessness is a blessing or a curse."

"So do I." She sat against the tree in the empty space I so despised. "Do not consider yourself worthless, though. Your work does not go as unnoticed as it looks."

It had been a long time since we caught each other on our evening walks, but her kinship was priceless. Even as a little girl, I would sometimes see her walking by while I washed the linens. As the years passed, I craned my neck less and less when speaking to her. It was almost surreal to see eye-to-eye. I lost track of how long we spent talking, for she made the horrible mistake of asking me about my alchemical endeavors. After a while she excused herself, for "duty calls," as she always said.

The moon was positioned such that I knew most people were in bed. That meant that my duties also called. Oh, how the dust collects so quickly on the sconces in the western wing... I decided to fetch a mostly-dried rag to do my nighttime dusting, traveling through the great hall just to make sure nobody needed my assistance. Nobody was there. I grinned. It was time to dust the sconces on the western wing. The crack of light at the end of the hallway was all the indication I needed. I approached the door, still nervous, even though he requested me.

"Your Highness, it is rather late. How are you faring?"

"All is well, thank you." He motioned me inside, closing the door swiftly behind me, "I cannot afford to halt my work right now, but you can still join me. Perhaps this would interest you?"

I could barely contain my excitement when he handed me a copy of _Calcinator Treatise,_ a text I always wanted to read but never had the chance. Upon asking him where he found it, he told me the Nord (apparently named Bjorn, it took way too long for me to learn that) found it, and thought he would like it. My notebook was, unfortunately, absent. Martin was deeply amused when I asked him if I could fetch it. I returned without delay.

"I overheard enough to understand why you're still working." Removing my coat, I joined him on the bed, text in hand.

"There is still much to decipher, and time is of the essence."

"Even considering the time we have spent, I don't believe anyone here would question your devotion to the task. Believe me when I tell you that your father would be proud," I said, moving closer to him, "Also, I would be happy to join you."

An arm made its way around my waist, and with a drastic change in tone, he replied, "I didn't realize alchemists were this easily baited." This illicited a laugh from both of us. Still feeling the freezing Jerall Mountain air, I buried myself under a blanket before delving into the Argonian account I had wanted to read for so long. Conversation, as expected, was practically absent.

That the positioning of the calcinator using the moon as a guide made me very suspicious, especially with how little it increased the purity of the distillate. I still took notes, for it was something that would be well worth the investigation. It would mean doing my work outside, which will likely slow the rate of formation, but the catalysts I gathered may make up for the loss. Either way, I would have to establish a new baseline with the change of environment, but being outside would put me closer to the ingredients I gather... a few carefully drawn diagrams made my ideas concrete. Without a pen, none of my thoughts would make sense, even to myself. I looked over to Martin, finding him just as engrossed in his work as I was mine.

"I hope I'm not intruding," I said, noticing his arm hadn't shifted since I entered.

"Not at all. You are hardly the intrusive type." His gaze hadn't shifted, either. "I _did_ ask for you to come."

I started to outline my plan to test the assertations in the _Treatise _come morning. The equipment I had access to wasn't neccessarily ideal, but if the purity was actually affected by the moon, I would love to know. Perfection would never happen, but I still wanted to strive for it. Whether or not I would be happy to find the mixtures and techniques that would have cured my mother, I wasn't certain, but I do keep reminding myself that I did not have the benefit of my current experience back then. The guilt still remains, but time heals most wounds.

His hand gradually moved upward until, eventually, it reached my breast. The moment it did, my regard shot to him, finding that he still had a face of stone, looking downward. If there was a sly smile, I couldn't detect it. It was so... like him to pull something like this. So, I continued as he was, pretending to ignore his advances. He was probably looking for the reaction, anyway. I was curious what would happen if I deprived him of said reaction.

The fondling started, sending shivers down my spine. He knew just how to affect me. Stone-faced. Stone-faced. I wasn't going to be the first to give. Recall, during the full moon, the Calcinator should face due South, aligned with the Southern pole star. It may seem unintuitive, but with enough practice, I could commit it to memory. His fingers touched my skin, deftly tucking them beneath my bodice. Due South, not North, even though North would make more sense logically. Note that.

His entire hand made it under the bodice without effort, even though it was laced so tightly. The next time someone goes to Bruma, I should ask them to get me a book with a star chart in it such that I could be more precise with the rotation of my calcinator. Such a volume would make a lovely addition to my collection. As much as I look at the stars, I ought to educate myself about them so I appreciate them more. They are truly a beautiful creation.

My breath exited me just a little faster when the handling became rougher. Remember to set the device where the moonlight is shining on half of it. Half. This means I will need to be a distance from the temple to purify my potions to the best of my abilities. It is valuable that I do so, especially for the impurities more difficult to evaporate. While I do this, it will give me some time to gather more ingredients. What a way to save time!

Touching, teasing, and even pinching brought my teeth together. One part in fourty-seven is surprisingly precise, which made me withdraw some of my doubts about the _Treatise. _I wrote more possible experiments as I thought of them. I would have enough work for days with all of these ideas. How very exciting! Low chuckling indicated my victory, unfortunately bringing his hand back to my waist. I never thought he would concede. It was in the evening that I realized just how... human he was. What was the difference between an emperor and a servant, save for a few decades of wisdom? I wondered how others would answer that question.

I set the book aside, having poured through it more than enough. My notebook gained quite a few pages of illegible scribblings that evening. Actually being serious, I asked him, "Do you have a copy of_ De Rerum Dirennis_? I used to, but it is in Chorrol now. It was one of my favorites."

"I don't."

I paused a moment before asking again, "How about a text with a decent star chart? I wanted to try some of the techniques mentioned in the _Treatise._"

"Ha. A woman after my own heart. I used to, but the majority of my collection was destroyed in the siege. Perhaps you can ask someone to go into town and get those for you."

"Isn't that dangerous?"

"Given one is properly armed, no. Now..." he sighed, finally setting his work down, "I think I'll be finished with this for the night. I'm exhausted."

I could tell he hated himself for needing to retire for the evening. "Should I leave you be?"

"Only if you want to."

"What do _you _want?"

"I would like company, like any other. I so happen to prefer yours." He joined me underneath the blankets. I assumed my customary place on his chest. Despite our realm's collapsing, there was still one perfect place, the place where the sconces were dusted.


	11. Memory

Silence stopped being so fearsome as I spent more time with him. After too much time spent reaffirming that I will not be punished for having nothing to say, it finally made its way through. I could have spent the rest of my life clinging to his side. It was still hard to believe just how much he could put up with.

"I must confess, you won't get much from me tonight."

"It's okay, really. It's not your fault you lost most of your collection." I could barely keep from sniggering.

He chuckled in return, warning me, "You know what I meant. Perhaps another... attitude adjustment is in order." I almost panicked when I realized my hand wouldn't move after he touched it, but then started laughing shortly after.

"I would call you a bastard, but..." Without a word, my arm froze as he worked his way up. I giggled, secretly hoping he would do such a thing more often.

"Consider my attitude adjusted." A tingling sensation shot down my arm as I regained it. A devious smirk was visible.

Even after spending a good deal of time inside, I still felt rather cold. It was nights like these that I really dreaded sleeping in my room. As accommodating as the people here have been, my room was freezing this time of year; the floor had its way of piercing through my bedroll, leaving me shivering. After all of my years living there, I was still more accustomed to the slightly warmer Chorrol.

He wasn't particularly talkative that night, which, despite any form of rational thought, made me worry that I was only being tolerated such that my feelings wouldn't be hurt. Asking if I was unwelcome would provide the same answer, but it _was _possible he was lying, just to be kind. I tried to silence those worries, knowing I was being excessively suspicious, but they still remained.

"Looks like it's been rough," I said, burying myself underneath the blankets even farther.

"That it has." The nagging suspicion continued.

"Tired?"

"Very."

Any sane, rational person would have left it at that. Neither sane nor rational, I started thinking he was upset with me about keeping him so late, or for disturbing him at times when he should be working or sleeping. Perhaps I wore out my welcome. Perhaps the armory needed more cleaning than the sconces. Perhaps I should have scrubbed the Great Hall...

He started idly playing with my hair, close to the only thing visible after I retreated away from the cold. If he was willing to pretend he wanted me around, I could, just as easily, pretend I believed that. Time passed. Exhausted, I abandoned my suspicion. It was a weight too great to bear.

"Sometimes I wonder," he said, breaking what must have been an hour's silence, "if I knew you, back then, would I have treated you like the others, taking advantage of fears and scars, promising eternal love and protection as means to an end, then disappearing the moment I grew bored?"

I rolled onto my stomach. "You may have. Nothing really sets me apart from other girls my age with similar upbringing."

He was taken aback at my remark, likely expecting a pre-written platitude. I had none to give here. He didn't say anything in response.

"This has been on your mind for a while, hasn't it?" I asked him. I hoped he didn't think I was trying to be cruel.

"It has been lurking for some time, yes. Every day, I gain deeper understanding of the damage I caused."

"You've had quite some time since that happened. Why does it bother you today more than other days?"

"I stopped arrogantly assuming the man from years ago was a ghost separate from me. No time preaching would change that, and I am a fool for thinking so."

"Did something happen?"

"Just a bit of time spent listening to my thoughts, that is all. Though I may try, I cannot abandon the truth. They had faces, Alice, faces not too different from yours. They were hurting, and I took joy in offering them hope I knew I would never give. If I saw someone do that to you, I would do more than firmly reprimand them, much more, yet I, myself, am guilty."

"I cannot offer much, but you do have my empathy. Guilt plagues me, too, and I know _exactly_ how to run from it."

Many things I wanted to say were unkind, and I couldn't help but question exactly my intentions were. I had no right to be critical. He had many years of experience and wisdom I did not possess. As kind as he was to me, and, admittedly, how infatuated I was with him, I was beginning to notice that he was not the perfect image I first saw. Even when I heard of the things he had done, I still idolized him; I doubted him, distrusted him, and for some moments was terrified him, but I still idolized him the same. With his image subtracted, what remained?

I still had no right to be critical; I had no right to advise. I, did, however, know who did. Shaking my head, I added, "A word from your father: guilt does not change the past, worry does not change the present, and both are a poison unless they change the future." A weak laugh masked my grief. Such words were said once to a hypothermic girl in tears while gathering milk thistle.

"He lives on," he said quietly, bringing me closer to him, "I wish I could have met him. He sounds like a wise man."

Awareness surfaced when I noticed that I had no idea what time it was. That night was another night with my willpower and my exhaustion entwined in an epic battle, both tugging in opposite directions without any change in position. Another yawn indicated that the late nights' effects were cumulative, but my desire to stay was great. A night shivering on the floor was far from ideal.

"He was. Everyone can attest to his greatness as an emperor; read the third Pocket Guide to the Empire and you will see. He was diligent, dedicated, but still kind, leading without lording. All of that is important, more important, but I still hold tight to all the pain he undid, and what a friend he was to us all."

Though I was learning to cherish memories instead of simply grieving a loss, I still wept for him. There was no hope left in keeping some air of sanity and composure. Martin knew I had neither, so there was no point in lying. It was beyond me how he dealt with so many hours of me. My best guess was, as a priest, he had seen so many of the mad and mourning that nothing affected him amymore. Otherwise, it was still beyond me. I yawned again.

"You haven't been sleeping enough. Am I to blame?" I could almost taste the smugness in his voice.

"Yes, but I am not without guilt. The others keep telling me not to fret when my morning routine runs late. His Highness is _always_ so late to rise, after all."

He laughed uncomfortably. "Please don't tell me they call me that."

"Are you afraid of what you'll do when you have power again?"

His expression shifted suddenly. I cringed, realizing my words hit deep, regretting what I said almost immediately. The last thing he needed was someone encouraging his guilt. Almost immediately after, I blurted, "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, no. I should admit these things to myself more often. It is only unsettling how much you know and continue to discover. I fear for the night when you choose not return." Why I still doubted him I did not understand.

"You say this to the woman you found in a pool of her own blood, madder than Pelagius himself? I may have pulled a blade on the projected image of my father, but you haven't scared me away yet."

He took that for an answer, and with that, I retreated fully beneath the blankets. Another one of the infamous winter nights from the Jerall Mountains was upon us, slowly penetrating through the strong stone walls. Dread was creeping up on me. I knew my ability to stay awake was waning...

He exposed my face a bit, much to my dismay. "I shouldn't keep you. You're practically asleep as is." I groaned in protest, burying my face in his robes.

At half the volume, he added, "I am willing to take the risk if you are."

"What would we tell them?"

"Watch carefully before you leave come morning, and we don't have to tell them a thing."

I moved to face him, confused. "Tell me. Why the sudden change of heart?"

"You know the mess I have become."

"What you suggest sounds like a decent alternative to drinking your feelings." I smiled and kissed him on the cheek. "Now, I, personally, will agree to _anything_ that keeps me off the floor tonight." I burrowed underneath the covers once more.

"Ha. Very well."

The room went black when the lamp was extinguished. I turned over, taking a good deal of the bedding with. Upon joining me, it took a good deal of pulling to take it back; he resorted to a rather strong hand on my wrist before I "relented." The ordeal sent us both into hushed laughter, followed by another wave of fatigue on my part. Not long after, my face hit the pillow and my knees neared my chest.

"I will take this as 'good night,'" he joked. I mumbled an affirmation, which amused him and returned me to his arms. The last thing I remembered before I was taken by force into slumber was a kiss on the neck and his words, which puzzled me.

"You have granted me what I thought I would never have. Thank you."


End file.
